LIBRARY 

UNIVET^SITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 

RIVERSIDE 


i. 


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JUUUS  BIEN  a  CO.  LrTH.N.Y 


ORATIONS  OF  DEMOSTHENES. 

The  beautiful  copy  of  the  Orations  of  Demosthenes  from  which  our  sample  is 
taken,  is  a  work  of  Italian  art  executed  toward  the  close  of  the  fifteenth  century.  Ex- 
quisite volumes  such  as  this  could  only  be  purchased  by  the  rich,  and  this  one  seems  to 
have  been  executed  for  one  of  the  Farnesi,  a  name  intimately  connected  with  Italian  art 
of  this  period,  the  arms  of  that  noble  family  being,  emblazoned  in  the  lower  part  of 
the  border.  After  many  vicissitudes  it  found  its  way  to  England  and  was  purchased 
by  the  trustees  of  the   British   Museum. 

The  book  consists  of  some  of  the  orations  of  Demosthenes  with  the  addition  of  the 
prologues  of  Libanius,  a  Greek  author  of  the  third  century,  who  appears  to  have 
written  these  commentaries,  or  introductions,  for  the  Roman  proconsul  Montius. 
The  blue  label  at  the  top  of  the  page  contains  the  title  as  follows:  "  Libanius's  Intro-, 
duction  to  the  Discourses  of  Demosthenes." 

The  portion  on  the  page  we  have  given  may  be  thus  nearly  literally  translated: 
"  Since,  O  most  e.xcellent  proconsul  Montius,  like  the  illustrious  Homer,  skilled  in  the 
powers  of  eloquence,  you  hold  the  first  place  in  Roman  discoupse,  and  have  beyond 
dispute,  obtained  a  palm  in  other  learning,  may  you  not  neglect  Greek  literature  for 
in  this  you  may  excel  by  reason  of  the  greatness  of  your  genius;  and,  as  you  are 
learned  in  other  authors,  so  also  may  you  be  in  the  work  of  Demosthenes,  the  most 
excellent  of  great  Orators.  .\nd  since  you  require  me  to  write  the  introduction  to 
this  man's  orations,  I  will  willingly  obey  your  commands,  not  ignorant  that  there  is 
more  of   honor   than   labor  in   the  task." 


THE 


BIBLIOPHILE  LIBRARY  OF 

LITERATURE  ART  AND 

RARE  MANUSCRIPTS 


History,  Biography,  Science,  Poetry,  Drama, 
Travel,  Adventure,  Fiction,  and  Rare  and 
Little-known  Literature  from  the  Archives 
of  the  Great  Libraries  of  the  World. 

A  Record  of  the  Great  Things  that  have  been  Said  and  Thought 
and  Done  from  the  Beginning  of  History. 

WITH  PRONOUNCING  AND  BIOGRAPHICAL 
DICTIONARY  AND  EXPLANATORY  NOTES. 

Introductions   by   ANDREW    LANG    and 

DONALD   G.   MITCHELL  (IK  MARVEL) 

Compiled  and  Arranged  by  NATHAN   HASKELL  DOLE, 

FORREST  MORGAN,  and  CAROLINE  TICKNOR 


OTbirtp 


Volume  2 


Solnmed 


Published  by  the  International 
Bibliophile  Society,  New  York- London. 


FN6015 


/IDember's  BMtion  t»e  Xiue. 


Limited  to  lOOO  Copies 


By   The  International   Bibliophile  Society 
Copyright,    1904. 


This  Member  s  Edition  de  Luxe 
of  The  Bibliophile  Library  of  Lit- 
erature^ Art  and  Rare  Manuscripts 
is  limited  to  looo  sets^  of  xvhich 
this   is  copy  N'o. 


THE  BIBLIOPHILE  LIBEAEY 

OF 

LITERATURE,  ART,  AND  RARE  MANUSCRIPTS. 


TABLE  OF  CONTENTS. 

VOLUME  II. 

PAGE 

The  Love  of  Achilles  (Bion)      .        .        .  Trans,  by  Andrew  Lang 

Dido  in  Love  (prose  translation)  Virgil    .... 

Virgil's  Dido Walter  Savage  Landor  . 

Pisidice  (poem) Andrew  Lang 

The  Labors  of  Hercules         ....  

Hyperion  (poem) John  Keats    . 

The  Golden  Fleece Nathaniel  Hawthorne   . 

Babylon Charles  Rollin 

Athene  (poem) Sir  Lewis  Morris  . 

The  Greatness  of  Athens       ....  Thucydides    . 

The  Pass  of  Thermopylae       ....  Charlotte  M.  Yonge 

The  Spartans  and  the  Laws  of  Lycurgus     .  Clmrks  Rollin 

Greek  Myths John  Ruskin 

The  Triumph  of  Bacchus  (poem)      .        .  John  Keats  . 

Horatius  (poem) Thomas  Bahington  Macaulay  438 

Virginia,  including  the  lay  of  "  Virginia"  .  Thomas  Babington  Macaulay    456 

The  Story  of  Lucretia        ....  Livy      .... 

War  Songs  of  Tyrtaeus        ....  Trans,  by  Polwhele 

Of  Feminine  Subtlety From  the  Gesta  Romanoruni 

Nymphs  (poem) Thomas  Wade 

The  Gorgon's  Head Nathaniel  Hawthorne   . 

The  Prayer  of  the  Swine  to  Circe  (poem)  Austin  Dobson 

The  Olympic  Games Georg  Ebcrs    . 

Arion  (poem) George  Eliot   . 

The  Story  of  Croesus Herodotus 

The  La.st  Two  Oracles  of  Greece  .        .        .  Trans,  by  F.  W.  H.  Myers 

Wit  and  Satire  of  the  Greek  Anthology       .  Trans,  by  Lord  Neaves 

The  Isles  of  Greece  (poem)   ....  Lord  Byron    . 

Solon Plutarch 

Arethusa  (poem) Percy  Bysshe  Shelley     . 

An  Ancient  Gulliver Lucian  of  Samosata 

From  .Eschylus' "Agamemnon"  (drama)  Trans,  by  Edward  Fitzgerald     .597 

The  Downfall  and  Death  of  King  (Edipus  .  Trans,  by  Edward  Fitzgerald     613 

From  Euripides' "Medea"  (drama)    .        .  Trans,  by  E.P.Coleridge     .     626 

Faithful  Unto  Death Charlotte  M.  Yonge       .        .     G38 


341 
342 
360 
361 
362 
367 
375 
406 
410 
412 
416 
423 
430 
436 


4G9 
473 
476 
479 
481 
601 
504 
514 
516 
540 
541 
555 
558 
576 
578 


TABLE  OF  CONTENTS. 


PAGB 


The  "  Knights"  of  Aristophanes  .        .        .  Trans,  bij  John  H.  Frere       .  644 

Parabasis Aristoplmnes         .        .        .  662 

Plato  and  Bacon Thomas  Babington  Macaulay  664 

A  Grecian  Sunset Lord  Byron    ....  676 

The  Trial  of  Socrates,  by  Plato     .        .        .  Trans,  by  F.J.  Church         .  678 
Alcibiades'  Account  of  Socrates,  by  Plato  .  Trans,  by  Percy  B.  Shelley   .  693 
A  Dialogue  from  Plato          ....  Austin  Dobson       .        .        .  697 
The  Destruction  of  the  Athenians  at  Syra- 
cuse           Thucydides    ....  698 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS. 


VOLUME  II. 


111.  MS.  of  Orations  of  Demos- 
thenes   

^^neas  at  the  Court  of  Dido 

Hercules 

Keats'    House,    Lawnbank, 

Hampstead  .... 
Mark   Antony's   Oration   Over 

the  Dead  Body  of  Ccesar    . 

Medea 

Homer 

Ruskin's  Home,  Brantwood, 

Lake  Country 
Ruskin  in  His  Study 
MS.  of  Thomas  Babington  Ma- 

caulay  ... 


The  Dauntless  Three 

The  Death  of  Virginia 
Lucretia  and  Sextus  Tarquin 
The  Nymphs 
Throwing  the  Discus 
Herodotus    .... 
"The  Isles  of  Greece"! 
Plutarch        .... 
Sophocles      .... 
King  Oedipus 
Greek  Actors 

Thomas  Babington  Macaulay 
Socrates        .... 

Death  of  Socrates 


Lithographic  Facsimile  of  an  Italian 

MS.  of  the  XVth  Century     Frontispiece 

PAGE 

From  the  Painting  by  P.  Gv^mi  342 

From  a  Photograph  of  the  Statue       .  362 

From  a  Photograph     ....  368 

From  the  Painting  by  J.  D.  Court  375 

From  a  Painting  by  M.  Sichel   .  395 

From  a  Photograph  of  Bust       .  415 

Frojn  a  Photograph     ....  430 

From  a  Photograph     ....  434 
Facsimile  of  the  original  MS.  of  an 
Article  on  "The  State  and  Its  Rela- 
tions  to   tlie    Church,"    by    W.    E. 

Gladstone,  dated  1839  438 
From  a  Painting  by  Jacques  Louis 

David 446 

From  a  Painting  by  Benjamin  West  .  466 

From  a  Painting  by  Alex.  Cabanal   .  469 

From  a  Painting  by  A .  Rieger   .  479 

From  a  Photograph  of  the  Statue  512 

From  a  Photograph  of  the  Bust   .  532 

From  a  Painting  by  Alma-Tadema   .  555 

From  a  Rare  Old  Print  558 

From  a  Photograph  of  the  StcUue  613 

From  a  Painting  by  E.  TeschendorjJ  625 

From  a  Painting  by  J.  L.  Gerome       .  627 

From  an  Engrainng       ....  664 
From  a  Photograph  of  the  Inscribed 

Bust 678 

From  a  Painting  by  Jacques  L.  David  692 


THE  BIBLIOPHILE  LIBRARY 

OF 

LITERATURE,  ART,  AND  RARE  MANUSCRIPTS. 

THE    LOVE    OF   ACHILLES. 

(Translation  from  Bioii  by  Andrew  Lang.) 

[For  biographical  sketch,  see  page  264.] 

Lycidas  sings  to  Myrson  a  fragment  about  the  loves  of  Achilles  and  Deidamia. 

Myrson  —  Wilt  thou  be  pleased  now,  Lycidas,  to  slug  me 
sweetly  some  sweet  Sicilian  song,  some  wistful  strain  delec- 
table, some  lay  of  love,  such  as  the  Cyclops  Polyphemus  sang  on 
the  sea  banks  to  Galatea  ? 

Lycidas  —  Yes,  Myrson,  and  I  too  fain  would  pipe,  but 
what  shall  I  sing  ? 

Myrson  —  A  song  of  Scyra,  Lycidas,  is  my  desire,  —  a 
sweet  love  story,  —  the  stolen  kisses  of  the  son  of  Peleus,  the 
stolen  bed  of  love ;  how  he,  that  was  a  boy,  did  on  the  weeds 
of  women,  and  how  he  belied  his  form,  and  how  among  the 
heedless  daughters  of  Lycomedes,  Deidamia  cherished  Achilles 
in  her  bower. 

Lycidas  —  The  herdsman  bore  off  Helen,  upon  a  time,  and 
carried  her  to  Ida,  sore  sorrow  to  Q^none.  And  Lacedemon 
waxed  wroth,  and  gathered  together  all  the  Achiean  folk ; 
there  was  never  a  Hellene,  not  one  of  the  Mycenseans,  nor  any 
man  of  Elis,  nor  of  the  Laconians,  that  tarried  in  his  house, 
and  shunned  the  cruel  Ares. 

But  Achilles  alone  lay  hid  among  the  daughters  of  Ly- 
comedes, and  was  trained  to  work  in  wools,  in  place  of  arms, 
and  in  his  white  hand  held  the  bough  of  maidenhood,  in  sem- 
blance a  maiden.  For  he  put  on  women's  ways,  like  them,  and 
a  bloom  like  theirs  blushed  on  his  cheek  of  snow,  and  he  walked 
with  maiden  gait,  and  covered  his  locks  with  the  snood.     But 

341 


342  DIDO  IN  LOVE. 

the  heart  of  a  man  had  he,  and  the  love  of  a  man.  From  dawn 
to  dark  he  would  sit  by  Deidamia,  and  anon  would  kiss  her 
hand,  and  oft  would  lift  the  beautiful  warp  of  her  loom  and 
praise  the  sweet  threads,  having  no  such  joy  in  any  other  girl 
of  her  company. 


DIDO   IN   LOVE. 
(From  the  ^neid  :  translated  by  John  Conington.) 

But  the  queen,  pierced  long  since  by  love's  cruel  shaft,  is 
feeding  the  wound  with  her  lifeblood,  and  wasting  under  a 
hidden  fire.  Many  times  the  hero's  own  worth  comes  back  to 
her  mind,  many  times  the  glory  of  his  race;  his  every  look 
remains  imprinted  on  her  breast,  and  his  every  word,  nor  will 
trouble  let  soothing  sleep  have  access  to  her  frame. 

The  dawn  goddess  of  the  morrow  was  surveying  the  earth 
with  Phcebus'  torch  in  her  hand,  and  had  already  withdrawn 
the  dewy  shadow  from  the  sky,  when  she,  sick  of  soul,  thus 
bespoke  the  sister  whose  heart  was  one  with  hers:  —  "Anna, 
my  sister,  what  dreams  are  these  that  confound  and  appall  me? 
Who  is  this  new  guest  that  has  entered  our  door?  What  a 
face  and  carriage!  What  strength  of  breast  and  shoulders! 
I  do  believe  —  it  is  no  mere  fancy  —  that  he  has  the  blood  of 
gods  in  his  veins.  An  ignoble  soul  is  known  by  the  coward's 
brand.  Ah!  by  what  fates  he  has  been  tossed!  What  wars  he 
was  recounting,  every  pang  of  them  borne  by  himself!  Were 
it  not  the  fixed,  immovable  purpose  of  my  mind  never  to  con- 
sent to  join  myself  with  any  in  wedlock's  bands,  since  my  first 
love  played  me  false  and  made  me  the  dupe  of  death  —  had  I 
not  been  weary  of  bridal  bed  and  nuptial  torch,  perchance  I 
might  have  stooped  to  this  one  reproach.  Anna,  for  I  will 
own  the  truth,  — since  the  fate  of  Sychaeus,  my  poor  husband, 
—  since  the  sprinkling  of  the  gods  of  my  home  with  the  blood 
my  brother  shed,  he  and  he  only  has  touched  my  heart  and 
shaken  ray  resolution  till  it  totters.  I  recognize  the  traces  of 
the  old  flame.  But  first  I  would  pray  that  earth  may  yawn  for 
me  from  her  foundations,  or  the  all-powerful  sire  hurl  me 
thunder-stricken  to  the  shades,  to  the  wan  shades  of  Erebus 
and  abysmal  night,  ere  I  viola\«  thee,  my  woman's  honor,  or 
unknit  the  bondvS  thou  tiest.     He  who  first  wedded  me,  he  has 


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DIDO  IN  LOVE.  343 

carried  off  my  heart  —  let  him  keep  it  all  his  own,  and  retain 
it  in  his  grave."  Thus  having  said,  she  deluged  her  bosom 
with  a  burst  of  tears. 

Anna  replies :  "  Sweet  love,  dearer  than  the  light  to  your 
sister's  eye,  are  you  to  pine  and  grieve  in  loneliness  through 
life's  long  spring,  nor  know  aught  of  a  mother's  joy  in  her 
children,  nor  of  the  prizes  Venus  gives  ?  Think  you  that  dead 
ashes  and  ghosts  low  in  the  grave  take  this  to  heart?  Grant 
that  no  husbands  have  touched  your  bleeding  heart  in  times 
gone  by,  none  now  in  Libya,  none  before  in  Tyre;  yes,  larbas 
has  been  slighted,  and  the  other  chieftains  whom  Afric,  rich 
in  triumphs,  rears  as  its  own  —  will  you  fight  against  a  wel- 
come, no  less  than  an  unwelcome,  passion?  Nor  does  it  cross 
your  mind  in  whose  territories  you  are  settled?  On  one  side 
the  cities  of  the  Gsetulians,  a  race  invincible  in  war,  and  the 
Numidians  environ  you,  unbridled  as  their  steeds,  and  the 
inhospitable  Syrtis ;  on  another,  a  region  unpeopled  by  drought, 
and  the  widespread  barbarism  of  the  nation  of  Barce.  What 
need  to  talk  of  the  war  cloud  threatening  from  Tyi-e,  and  the 
menaces  of  our  brother?  It  is  under  Heaven's  auspices,  I 
deem,  and  by  Juno's  blessing,  that  the  vessels  of  Ilion  have 
made  this  voyage  hither.  What  a  city,  my  sister,  will  ours 
become  before  your  eyes !  what  an  empire  will  grow  out  of  a 
marriage  like  this!  With  the  arms  of  the  Teucrians  at  its 
back,  to  what  a  height  will  the  glory  of  Carthage  soar !  Only 
be  it  yours  to  implore  the  favor  of  Heaven,  and  having  won  its 
acceptance,  give  free  course  to  hospitality  and  weave  a  chain 
of  pleas  for  delay,  while  the  tempest  is  raging  its  full  on  the 
sea,  and  Orion,  the  star  of  rain,  while  his  ships  are  still  bat- 
tered, and  the  rigor  of  the  sky  still  unyielding."  By  these 
words  she  added  fresh  fuel  to  the  fire  of  love,  gave  confidence 
to  her  wavering  mind,  and  loosed  the  ties  of  woman's  honor. 

First  they  approach  the  temples  and  inquire  for  pardon  from 
altar  to  altar;  duly  they  slaughter  chosen  sheep  to  Ceres  the 
lawgiver,  to  Phoebus,  and  to  father  Lyseus  —  above  all  to  Juno, 
who  makes  marriage  bonds  her  care.  Dido  herself,  in  all  her 
beauty,  takes  a  goblet  in  her  hand,  and  pours  it  out  full  between 
the  horns  of  a  heifer  of  gleaming  white,  or  moves  majestic  in 
the  presence  of  the  gods  towards  the  richly  laden  altars,  and 
solemnizes  the  day  with  offerings,  and  gazing  greedily  on  the 
victims'  opened  breasts,  consults  the  entrails  yet  quivering 
with  life.     Alas!  how  blind  are  the  eyes  of  seers!     What  can 


344  DWO  IN  LOVE. 

vows,  what  can  temples  do  for  the  madness  of  love  ?  All  the 
while  a  flame  is  preying  on  the  very  marrow  of  her  bones,  and 
deep  in  her  breast  a  wound  keeps  noiselessly  alive.  She  is  on 
lire,  the  ill-fated  Dido,  and  in  her  madness  ranges  the  whole 
city  through,  like  a  doe  from  an  arrow  shot,  whom,  unguarded 
in  the  thick  of  the  Cretan  woods,  a  shepherd,  chasing  her  with 
his  darts,  has  pierced  from  a  distance,  and  left  the  flying  steel 
in  the  wound,  unknowing  of  his  prize ;  she  at  full  speed  scours 
the  forests  and  lawns  of  Dicte;  the  deadly  reed  still  sticks  in 
her  side.  Now  she  leads  -^neas  with  her  through  the  heart  of 
the  town,  and  displays  the  wealth  of  Sidon,  and  the  city  built 
to  dwell  in.  She  begins  to  speak,  and  stops  midway  in  the 
utterance.  Now,  as  the  day  fades,  she  seeks  again  the  banquet 
of  yesterday,  and  once  more  in  frenzy  asks  to  hear  of  the  agonies 
of  Troy,  and  hangs  once  more  on  his  lips  as  he  tells  the  tale. 
Afterwards,  when  the  guests  are  gone,  and  the  dim  moon  in 
turn  is  hiding  her  light,  and  the  setting  stars  invite  to  slumber, 
alone  she  mourns  in  the  empty  hall,  and  presses  the  couch  he 
has  just  left;  him  far  away  she  sees  and  hears,  herself  far  away; 
or  holds  Ascanius  long  in  her  lap,  spellbound  by  his  father's 
image,  to  cheat,  if  she  can,  her  ungovernable  passion.  The 
towers  that  were  rising  rise  no  longer;  the  youth  cease  to  prac- 
tice arms,  or  to  make  ready  havens  and  bulwarks  for  safety  in 
war;  the  works  are  broken  and  suspended,  the  giant  frowning 
of  the  walls,  and  the  engine  level  with  the  sky. 

IX.  The  Fates  Interpose. 

Soon  as  Jove's  loved  wife  saw  that  she  was  so  mastered  by 
the  plague,  and  that  good  name  could  not  stand  in  the  face  of 
passion,  she,  the  daughter  of  Saturn,  bespeaks  Venus  thus: 
"Brilliant  truly  is  the  praise,  ample  the  spoils  you  are  carrying 
off,  you  and  your  boy  —  great  and  memorable  the  fame,  if  the 
plots  of  two  gods  have  really  conquered  one  woman.  No;  I 
am  not  so  blind  either  to  your  fears  of  my  city,  to  your  sus- 
picions of  the  open  doors  of  my  stately  Carthage.  But  when 
is  this  to  end?  or  what  call  now  for  such  terrible  contention? 
Suppose  for  a  change  we  establish  perpetual  peace  and  a  firm 
marriage  bond.  You  have  gained  what  your  whole  heart  went 
to  seek.  Dido  is  ablaze  with  love,  and  the  madness  is  coursing 
through  her  frame.  Jointly  then  let  us  rule  this  nation,  each 
with  full   sovereignty;   let  her  stoop   to   be   the   slave   of  a 


DIDO   IN  LOVE.  345 

Phrygian  husband,  and  make  over  her  Tyrians  in  place  of 
dowry  to  your  control." 

To  her  —  for  she  saw  that  she  had  spoken  with  a  feigned 
intent,  meaning  to  divert  the  Italian  empire  to  the  coast  of 
Libya  —  Venus  thus  replied :  "  Who  would  be  so  mad  as  to 
spurn  offers  like  these,  and  prefer  your  enmity  to  your  friend- 
ship, were  it  but  certain  that  the  issue  you  name  would  bring 
good  fortune  in  its  train?  But  I  am  groping  blindly  after 
destiny  —  whether  it  be  Jupiter's  will  that  the  Tyrians  and 
the  voyagers  from  Troy  should  have  one  city  —  whether  he 
would  have  the  two  nations  blended  and  a  league  made  between 
them.  You  are  his  wife ;  it  is  your  place  to  approach  him  by 
entreaty.  Go  on,  I  will  follow."  Imperial  Juno  rejoined  thus: 
"That  task  shall  rest  with  me.  Now,  in  what  way  our 
present  purpose  can  be  contrived,  lend  me  your  attention,  and 
I  will  explain  in  brief,  ^neas  and  Dido,  poor  sufferer  1  are 
proposing  to  go  hunting  in  the  forest,  when  first  to-morrow's 
sun  displays  his  rising,  and  with  his  beams  uncurtains  the 
globe.  On  them  I  will  pour  from  above  a  black  storm  of  min- 
gled rain  and  hail,  just  when  the  horsemen  are  all  astir,  and 
spreading  their  toils  before  the  wood  walks,  and  the  whole 
heaven  shall  be  convulsed  with  thunder.  The  train  shall  fly 
here  and  there,  and  be  lost  in  the  thick  darkness.  Dido  and 
the  Trojan  chief  shall  find  themselves  in  the  same  cave.  I  will 
be  there,  and,  if  I  may  count  on  your  sanction,  will  unite  her 
to  him  in  lasting  wedlock,  and  consecrate  her  his  for  life. 
Thus  shall  Hymen  give  us  his  presence."  The  Queen  of 
Cythera  makes  no  demur,  but  nods  assent,  smiling  at  the  trick 
she  has  found  out. 

Meanwhile  Aurora  has  risen,  and  left  the  ocean.  Rising 
with  the  day-star,  the  chivalry  of  Carthage  streams  through 
the  gates,  their  woven  toils,  and  nets,  and  hunting  spears 
tipped  with  broad  iron,  and  Massylian  horsemen  hurry  along, 
and  a  force  of  keen-scented  hounds.  There  are  the  Punic 
princes,  waiting  for  the  queen,  who  still  lingers  in  her  cham- 
ber ;  there  stands  her  palfrey,  conspicuous  in  purple  and  gold, 
fiercely  champing  the  foaming  bit.  At  length  she  comes  forth, 
with  a  mighty  train  attending,  a  Tyrian  scarf  round  her,  itself 
surrounded  by  an  embroidered  border ;  her  quiver  of  gold,  her 
hair  knotted  up  with  gold,  her  purple  robe  fastened  with  a 
golden  clasp.  The  Phrygian  train,  too,  are  in  motion,  and 
lulus,  all  exultation,     ^neas  himself,  comely  beyond  all  the 


346  DIDO  IN  LOVE. 

rest,  adds  his  presence  to  theirs,  and  joins  the  procession ;  like 
Apollo,  when  he  leaves  his  Lycian  winter  seat  and  the  stream 
of  Xanthus,  and  visits  Delos,  his  mother's  isle,  and  renews  the 
dance ;  while  with  mingled  voices  round  the  altar  shout  Cretans 
and  Dryopians,  and  tattooed  Agathyrsians.  The  god  in  majesty 
walks  on  the  heights  of  Cynthus,  training  his  luxuriant  hair 
with  the  soft  pressure  of  a  wreath  of  leaves,  and  twining  it  with 
gold;  his  arrows  rattle  on  his  shoulders.  Not  with  less  ease 
than  he  moved  ^neas ;  such  the  beauty  that  sparkles  in  that 
peerless  countenance.  When  they  reach  the  high  mountains 
and  the  pathless  coverts,  see!  the  wild  goats,  dropping  from 
the  tops  of  the  crags,  have  run  down  the  slopes;  in  another 
quarter  the  deer  are  scouring  the  open  plains,  massing  their 
herds  as  they  fly  in  a  whirlwind  of  dust,  and  leaving  the  moun- 
tains. But  young  Ascanius  is  in  the  heart  of  the  glens,  exult- 
ing in  his  fiery  courser.  Now  he  passes  one,  now  another,  of 
his  comrades  at  full  speed,  and  prays  that  in  the  midst  of  such 
spiritless  game  he  may  be  blest  with  the  sight  of  a  foaming 
boar,  or  that  a  tawny  lion  may  come  down  the  hill. 

X.  The  Mystic  Marriage. 

Meantime  the  sky  begins  to  be  convulsed  with  a  mighty 
turmoil ;  a  stormcloud  follows  of  mingled  rain  and  hail.  The 
Tyrian  train,  all  in  confusion,  and  the  chivalry  of  Troy,  and 
the  hope  of  Dardania,  Venus'  grandson,  have  sought  shelter  in 
their  terror  up  and  down  the  country,  some  here,  some  there. 
The  streams  run  in  torrents  down  the  hills.  Dido  and  the 
Trojan  chief  find  themselves  in  the  same  cave.  Earth,  the 
mother  of  all,  and  Juno  give  the  sign. 

Lightnings  blaze,  and  heaven  flashes  in  sympathy  with  the 
bridal;  and  from  mountain  tops  the  nymphs  give  the  nuptial 
shout.  That  day  was  the  birthday  of  death,  the  birthday  of 
woe.  Henceforth  she  has  no  thought  for  the  common  eye,  or 
the  common  tongue;  it  is  not  a  stolen  passion  that  Dido  has 
now  in  her  mind  —  no,  she  calls  it  marriage ;  that  name  is  the 
screen  of  her  sin. 

Instantly  Fame  takes  her  journey  through  Libya's  great  cities 
—  Fame,  a  monster  surpassed  in  speed  by  none ;  her  nimbleness 
lends  her  life,  and  she  gains  strength  as  she  goes.  At  first  fear 
keeps  her  low ;  soon  she  rears  herself  skyward,  and  treads  on 
the  ground,  while  her  head  is  hidden  among  the  clouds.     Earth, 


DIDO  m  LOVE.  347 

her  parent,  provoked  to  anger  against  the  gods,  brought  her 
forth,    they   say,    the   youngest   of   the   family  of   Coeus   and 
Enceladus,  —  swift  of  foot  and  untiring  of  wing,  a  portent  ter- 
rible and  vast,  — who,  for  every  feather  on  her  body  has  an  ever- 
wakeful  eye  beneath,  marvelous  to  tell,  for  every  eye  a  loud 
tongue  and  mouth,  and  a  pricked-up  ear.     At  night  she  flies 
midway  between  heaven  and  earth,  hissing  through  the  dark- 
ness, nor  ever  yields  her  eyes  to  the  sweets  of  sleep.     In  the 
daylight  she  sits  sentinel  on  a  high  house  top,  or  on  a  lofty 
turret,  and  makes  great  cities  afraid ;  as  apt  to  cling  to  false- 
hood and  wrong  as  to  proclaim  the  truth.     So  then  she  was 
filling  the  public  ear  with  a  thousand  tales,  — things  done  and 
things  never  done  alike  the  burden  of  her  song, — how  that 
^neas,  a  prince  of  Trojan  blood,  had  arrived  at  Carthage,  a 
hero  whom  lovely  Dido  deigned  to  make  her  husband,  and  now 
in  luxurious  ease  they  were  wearing  away  the  length  of  winter 
together,  forgetful  of  the  crowns  they  wore  or  hoped  to  wear, 
and  enthralled  by  unworthy  passion.     Such  are  the  tales  the 
fiendlike  goddess  spreads  from  tongue  to  tongue.     Then,  in 
due  course,  she  turns  her  steps  to  King  larbas,  and  inflames 
him  with  her  rumors,  and  piles  his  indignation  high.     He,  the 
son  of  Amnion,  from  the  ravished  embrace  of  a  Garamantian 
nymph,  built  within  his  broad  realms  a  hundred  temples  to 
Jove,  and  in  each  temple  an  altar ;  there  he  had  consecrated  an 
ever-wakeful  fire,  the  god's  unsleeping  sentry,  a  floor  thick 
with  victims'  blood,  and  doors  wreathed  with  parti-colored  gar- 
lands.    And  he,  frenzied  in  soul,  and  stung  by  the  bitter  tid- 
ings, is  said,  as  he  stood  before  the  altars,  with  the  majesty  of 
Heaven  all  around  him,  to  have  prayed  long  and  earnestly  to 
Jove  with  upturned  hands:    "Jove,  the  Almighty,  to  whom 
in  this  my  reign  the  Moorish  race,  feasting  on  embroidered 
couches,  pour  out  the  offering  of  the  vintage,  seest  thou  this  ? 
or  is  our  dread  of  thee.  Father,  when  thou  hurlest  thy  light- 
nings, an  idle  panic  ?  are  those  aimless  fires  in  the  clouds  that 
appall  us?  have  their  confused  rumblings  no  meaning?     See 
here :  a  woman,  who,  wandering  in  our  territories,  bought  leave 
to  build  a  petty  town,  to  whom  we  made  over  a  strip  of  land 
for  tillage,  with  its  rights  of  lordship,  she  has  rejected  an 
alliance  wdth  us,  and  received  iEneas  into  her  kingdom,  to  be 
its  lord  and  hers.     And  now  that  second  Paris,  with  his  emas- 
culate following,  a  Mseonian  cap  supporting  his  chin  and  his 
essenced  hair,  is  enjoying  his  prize,  while  we,  forsooth,  are 


348  I>II>0  IN  LOVE. 

making  offerings  to  temples  of  thine,  and  keeping  alive  an  idle 
rumor." 

Thus  as  he  prayed,  his  hands  grasping  the  altar,  the  almighty 
one  heard  him,  and  turned  his  eyes  to  the  queenly  city  and  the 
guilty  pair,  lost  to  their  better  fame.  Then  thus  he  bespeaks 
Mercury,  and  gives  him  a  charge  like  this:  "Go,  haste,  my 
son,  summon  the  Zephyrs,  and  float  on  thy  wings ;  address  the 
Dardan  chief,  who  is  now  dallying  in  Tyrian  Carthage,  and 
giving  no  thought  to  the  city  which  Destiny  makes  his  own ; 
carry  liim  my  commands  through  the  flying  air.  It  was  not  a 
man  like  that  whom  his  beauteous  mother  promised  us  in  him, 
and  on  the  strength  of  her  word  twice  rescued  him  from  the 
sword  of  Greece.  No,  he  was  to  be  one  who  should  govern 
Italy  —  Italy,  with  its  brood  of  unborn  empires,  and  the  war 
cry  bursting  from  its  heart  —  who  should  carry  down  a  line 
sprung  from  the  grand  fountain  head  of  Teucer's  blood,  and 
should  force  the  whole  world  to  bow  to  the  laws  he  makes.  If 
he  is  fired  by  no  spark  of  ambition  for  greatness  like  this,  and 
will  not  rear  a  toilsome  fabric  for  his  own  praise,  is  it  a 
father's  heart  that  grudges  Ascanius  the  hills  of  Rome  ?  What 
is  he  building  ?  What  does  he  look  to  in  lingering  on  among 
a  nation  of  enemies,  with  no  thought  for  the  great  Ausonian 
family,  or  for  the  fields  of  Lavinium  ?  Away  with  him  to  sea ! 
This  is  our  sentence;  thus  far  be  our  messenger." 

Jove  had  spoken,  and  Mercury  was  preparing  to  execute  the 
great  sire's  command:  first  he  binds  to  his  feet  his  sandals,  all 
of  gold,  which  carry  him,  uplifted  by  their  pinions,  over  sea  no 
less  than  land,  with  the  swiftness  of  the  wind  that  wafts  him. 
Then  he  takes  his  rod  —  the  rod  with  which  he  is  wont  to  call 
up  pale  specters  from  the  place  of  death  —  to  send  others  on 
their  melancholy  way  to  Tartarus,  to  give  sleep  or  take  it  away, 
and  to  open  the  eyes  when  death  is  past.  With  this  in  hand, 
he  drives  the  winds  before  him,  and  makes  a  path  tlirough  the 
sea  of  clouds.  And  now  in  his  flight  he  espies  the  crest  and 
the  tall  sides  of  Atlas  the  rugged,  who  with  his  top  supports 
the  sky  —  Atlas,  whose  pine-crowned  head,  ever  wreathed  with 
dark  clouds,  is  buffeted  by  wind  and  rain.  A  mantle  of  snow 
wraps  his  shoulders;  rivers  tumble  from  his  hoary  chin,  and 
his  grisly  beard  is  stiff  with  ice.  Here  first  Cyllene's  god 
poised  himself  on  his  wings  and  rested;  then  from  his  stand 
stooping  his  whole  body,  he  sent  himself  headlong  to  the  sea, 
like  a  bird  which  haunting  the  coast  and  the  fishy  rocks  flies 


DIDO  IN  LOVE.  349 

low,  close  to  the  water.  Even  so  was  he  flying  between  earth 
and  heaven,  between  Libya's  sandy  coast  and  tlie  winds  that 
swept  it,  leaving  his  mother's  father  behind,  himself  Cyllene's 
progeny. 

XL   uEneas  deserts  his  Queen. 

Soon  as  his  winged  feet  alit  among  the  huts  of  Carthage,  he 
sees  -3^]neas  founding  towers  and  making  houses  new.  A  sword 
was  at  his  side,  starred  with  yellow  jaspers,  and  a  mantle 
drooped  from  his  shoulders,  ablaze  with  Tja'ian  purple  —  a 
costly  gift  which  Dido  had  made,  varying  the  web  with  threads 
of  gold.  Instantly  he  assails  him:  "And  are  you  at  a  time 
like  this  laying  the  foundations  of  stately  Carthage,  and  build- 
ing, like  a  fond  husband,  your  wife's  goodly  city,  forgetting, 
alas!  your  own  kingdom  and  the  cares  that  should  be  yours? 
It  is  no  less  than  the  ruler  of  the  gods  who  sends  me  down  to 
you  from  his  bright  Olympus  —  he  whose  nod  sways  heaven 
and  earth;  it  is  he  that  bids  me  carry  his  commands  through 
the  flying  air.  What  are  you  building  ?  what  do  you  look  to 
in  squandering  your  leisure  in  Libyan  land?  If  you  are  fired 
by  no  spark  of  ambition  for  the  greatness  in  your  view,  and 
will  not  rear  a  toilsome  fabric  for  your  own  praise,  think  of 
Ascanius  rising  into  youth,  think  of  lulus,  your  heir  and  your 
hope,  to  whom  you  owe  the  crown  of  Italy  and  the  realm  of 
Rome."  With  these  words  Cyllene's  god  quitted  mortal  sight 
ere  he  had  well  ceased  to  speak,  and  vanished  away  from  the 
eye  into  unsubstantial  air. 

The  sight  left  -^neas  dumb  and  aghast  indeed ;  his  hair  stood 
shudderingly  erect;  his  speech  clave  to  his  throat.  He  burns 
to  take  flight  and  leave  the  land  of  pleasure,  as  his  ears  ring 
with  the  thunder  of  Heaven's  imperious  warning.  What  —  ah ! 
what  is  he  to  do?  with  what  address  can  he  now  dare  to  ap- 
proach the  impassioned  queen?  what  first  advances  can  he 
employ  ?  And  thus  he  dispatches  his  rapid  thought  hither  and 
thither,  hurrying  it  east  and  west,  and  sweeping  every  corner 
of  the  field.  So  balancing,  at  last  he  thought  this  judgment 
the  besL  He  calls  Mnestheus  and  Sergestus  and  brave  Seres- 
tus ;  bids  them  quietly  get  ready  the  fleet,  muster  the  crews  on 
the  shore,  with  their  arms  in  their  hands,  hiding  the  reason 
for  so  sudden  a  change.  Meantime  he,  while  Dido,  kindest  of 
friends,  is  in  ignorance,  deeming  love's  chain  too  strong  to  be 
snapped,  will  feel  his  way,  and  find  what  are  the  happiest 


350  DIDO  IN  LOVE. 

moments  for  speech,  what  the  right  hold  to  take  of  circum- 
stance. At  once  all  gladly  obey  his  command,  and  are  busy 
on  the  tasks  enjoined. 

But  the  queen  (who  can  cheat  a  lover's  senses  ?)  scented  the 
plot,  and  caught  the  first  sound  of  the  coming  stir,  alive  to  fear 
in  the  midst  of  safety.  Fame,  as  before,  the  same  baleful  fiend, 
whispered  in  her  frenzied  ear  that  the  fleet  was  being  equipped 
and  the  voyage  got  ready.  She  storms  in  impotence  of  soul, 
and,  all  on  fire,  goes  raving  through  the  city,  like  a  Msenad 
starting  up  at  the  rattle  of  the  sacred  emblems,  when  the  tri- 
ennial orgies  lash  her  with  the  cry  of  Bacchus,  and  Cithseron's 
yell  calls  her  into  the  night.  At  length  she  thus  bespeaks 
jEneas,  unaddressed  by  him :  — 

"  To  hide,  yes,  hide  your  enormous  crime,  perfidious  wretch, 
did  you  hope  that  might  be  done  —  to  steal  away  in  silence  from 
my  realm  ?  Has  our  love  no  power  to  keep  you  ?  has  our  troth, 
once  plighted,  none,  nor  she  whom  you  doom  to  a  cruel  death, 
your  Dido  ?  Nay,  are  you  fitting  out  your  fleet  with  winter's 
sky  overhead,  and  hastening  to  cross  the  deep  in  the  face  of  all 
the  northern  winds,  hard-hearted  as  you  are?  Why,  suppose 
you  were  not  seeking  a  strange  clime  and  a  home  you  know 
not  —  suppose  old  Troy  were  still  standing  —  would  even  Troy 
draw  you  to  seek  her  across  a  billowy  sea  ?  Flying,  and  from 
me !  By  the  tears  I  shed,  and  by  your  plighted  hand,  since  my 
own  act,  alas!  has  left  me  naught  else  to  plead  —  by  our  union 
—  by  the  nuptial  rites  thus  prefaced  —  if  I  have  ever  deserved 
well  of  you,  or  aught  of  mine  ever  gave  you  pleasure  —  have 
pity  on  a  falling  house,  and  strip  off,  I  conjure  you,  if  prayer 
be  not  too  late,  the  mind  that  clothes  you.  It  is  owing  to  you 
that  the  Libyan  tribes  and  the  Nomad  chiefs  hate  me,  that  my 
own  Tyrians  are  estranged;  owing  to  you,  yes,  you,  that  my 
woman's  honor  has  been  put  out,  and  that  which  was  my  one 
passport  to  immortality,  my  former  fame.  To  whom  are  you 
abandoning  a  dying  woman,  my  guest?  —  since  the  name  of 
husband  has  dwindled  to  that.  Why  do  I  live  any  longer  ?  — 
to  give  my  brother  Pygmalion  time  to  batter  down  my  walls, 
or  larbas  the  Moor  to  carry  me  away  captive  ?  Had  I  but  borne 
any  offspring  of  you  before  your  flight,  were  there  some  tiny 
-^neas  to  play  in  my  hall,  and  remind  me  of  you,  though  but 
in  look,  I  should  not  then  feel  utterly  captive  and  forlorn." 

She  ceased.  He  all  the  while,  at  Jove's  command,  was  keep- 
ing his  eyes  unmoved,  and  shutting  up  in  his  heart  his  great 


DIDO   IN  LOVE.  351 

love.  At  length  he  answers  in  brief:  "Fair  queen,  name  all 
the  claims  to  gratitude  you  can.  I  shall  never  gainsay  one, 
nor  will  the  thought  of  Elissa  ever  be  unwelcome  while  memory 
lasts,  while  breath  animates  this  frame.  A  few  words  I  will 
say,  as  the  case  admits.  I  never  counted  —  do  not  dream  it  — 
on  stealthily  concealing  my  flight.  I  never  came  with  a  bride- 
groom's torch  in  my  hand,  nor  was  this  the  alliance  to  which  I 
agreed.  For  me,  were  the  Fates  to  suffer  me  to  live  under  a 
star  of  my  own  choosing,  and  to  make  with  care  the  terms  I 
would,  the  city  of  Troy,  first  of  all  the  dear  remains  of  what 
was  mine,  would  claim  my  tendance.  Priam's  tall  roof  tree 
would  still  be  standing,  and  my  hand  would  have  built  a 
restored  Pergamus,  to  solace  the  vanquished.  But  now  to 
princely  Italy  Grynean  Apollo,  to  Italy  his  Lycian  oracles,  bid 
me  repair.  There  is  my  heart,  there  my  fatherland.  If  you 
are  riveted  here  by  the  sight  of  your  stately  Carthage,  a 
daughter  of  Phoenicia  by  a  Libyan  town,  why,  I  would  ask, 
should  jealousy  forbid  Teucrians  to  settle  in  Ausonian  land? 
We,  like  you,  have  the  right  of  looking  for  a  foreign  realm. 
There  is  my  father  Anchises,  oft  as  night's  dewy  shades  invest 
the  earth,  oft  as  the  fiery  stars  arise,  warning  me  in  di-eams 
and  appalling  me  by  his  troubled  presence.  There  is  my  son 
Ascanius,  and  the  wrongs  heaped  on  his  dear  head  every  day 
that  I  rob  him  of  the  crown  of  Hesperia,  and  of  the  land  that 
fate  makes  his.  Now,  too,  the  messenger  of  the  gods,  sent 
down  from  Jove  himself  (I  swear  by  both  our  lives)  has  brought 
me  orders  through  the  flying  air.  With  my  own  eyes  I  saw 
the  god  in  clear  daylight  entering  the  walls,  and  took  in  his 
words  with  the  ears  that  hear  you  now.  Cease  then  to  harrow 
up  both  our  souls  by  your  reproaches :  my  quest  of  Italy  is  not 
of  my  own  motion." 

Long  ere  he  had  done  this  speech  she  was  glaring  at  him 
askance,  rolling  her  eyes  this  way  and  that,  and  scanning  the 
whole  man  with  her  silent  glances,  and  thus  she  bursts  forth 
all  ablaze:  "No  goddess  was  mother  of  yours,  no  Dardanus 
the  head  of  your  line,  perfidious  wretch !  —  no,  your  parent  was 
Caucasus,  rugged  and  craggy,  and  Hyrcanian  tigresses  put  their 
breasts  to  your  lips.  For  why  should  I  suppress  aught?  or  for 
what  worse  evil  hold  myself  in  reserve  ?  Did  he  groan  when  I 
wept?  did  he  move  those  hard  eyes?  did  he  yield  and  shed 
tears,  or  pity  her  that  loved  him?  What  first?  what  last? 
Now,  neither  Juno,  queen  of  all,  nor  Jove,  the  almighty  Father, 


352  DIDO   IN    LOVE. 

eyes  us  with  impartial  regard.  Nowhere  is  there  aught  to  trust 
—  nowhere.  A  shipwrecked  beggar,  I  welcomed  him,  and 
madly  gave  him  a  share  of  my  realm ;  his  lost  fleet,  his  crews, 
I  brought  back  from  death's  door.  Ah !  Fury  sets  me  on  fire, 
and  whirls  me  round!  Now,  prophet  Apollo,  now  the  Lycian 
oracles.  Now  the  messenger  of  the  gods,  sent  down  by  Jove 
himself,  bears  his  grim  bidding  through  the  air!  Aye,  of 
course,  that  is  the  employment  of  the  powers  above,  those  the 
cares  that  break  their  repose!  I  retain  not  your  person,  nor 
refute  your  talk.  Go,  chase  Italy  with  the  winds  at  your  back ; 
look  for  realms  with  the  whole  sea  between  you.  I  have  hope 
that  on  the  rocks  midway,  if  the  gods  are  as  powerful  as  they 
are  good,  j^ou  will  drain  the  cup  of  punishment,  with  Dido's 
name  ever  on  your  lips.  I  will  follow  you  with  murky  fires 
when  I  am  far  away ;  and  when  cold  death  shall  have  parted 
soul  and  body,  my  shade  shall  haunt  you  everywhere.  Yes, 
wretch,  you  shall  suffer.  I  shall  hear  it  —  the  news  will  reach 
me  down  among  the  dead."  So  saying,  she  snaps  short  her 
speech,  and  flies  with  loathing  from  the  daylight,  and  breaks 
and  rushes  from  his  sight,  leaving  him  hesitating,  and  fearing, 
and  thinking  of  a  thousand  things  to  say.  Her  maidens  sup- 
port her,  and  carry  her  sinking  frame  into  her  marble  chamber, 
and  lay  her  on  her  bed. 

But  good  jEneas,  though  yearning  to  solace  and  soothe  her 
agonized  spirit,  and  by  his  words  to  check  the  onset  of  sorrow, 
with  many  a  groan,  his  whole  soul  upheaved  by  the  force  of 
love,  goes  nevertheless  about  the  commands  of  Heaven,  and 
repairs  to  his  fleet.  The  Teucrians  redouble  their  efforts,  and 
along  the  whole  range  of  the  shore  drag  their  tall  ships  down. 
The  keels  are  careened  and  floated.  They  carry  oars  with  their 
leaves  still  on,  and  timber  unfashioned  as  it  stood  in  the  woods, 
so  strong  their  eagerness  to  fly.  You  may  see  them  all  in 
motion,  streaming  from  every  part  of  the  city.  Even  as  ants 
when  they  are  sacking  a  huge  heap  of  wheat,  provident  of 
winter  days,  and  laying  up  the  plunder  in  their  stores ;  a  black 
column  is  seen  moving  through  the  plain,  and  they  convey  their 
booty  along  the  grass  in  a  narrow  path :  some  are  putting  their 
shoulders  to  the  big  grains,  and  pushing  them  along;  others 
are  rallying  the  force  and  punishing  the  stragglers ;  the  whole 
track  is  in  a  glow  of  work. 


DIDO  IN  LOVE.  853 

XII.  Death  of  Dido. 

Wliat  were  your  feelings  then,  poor  Dido,  at  a  sight  like 
this !  How  deep  the  groans  you  heaved,  when  you  looiied  out 
from  your  lofty  tower  on  a  beach  all  seething  and  swarming, 
and  saw  the  whole  sea  before  you  deafened  with  that  hubbub  ot' 
voices!  Tyrant  love!  wliat  force  dost  thou  not  i:>ut  on  human 
hearts?  Again  she  has  to  condescend  to  tears,  again  to  use 
the  weapons  of  entreaty,  and  bow  her  spirit  in  suppliance  under 
love's  yoke,  lest  she  should  have  left  aught  untried,  and  be 
rushing  on  a  needless  death. 

"Anna,  you  see  there  is  hurrying  all  over  the  shore  —  they 
are  met  from  every  side ;  the  canvas  is  already  Avooing  the  gale, 
and  the  joyful  sailors  have  wreathed  the  sterns.  If  I  have  had 
the  foresight  to  anticipate  so  heavy  a  blow,  I  shall  have  the 
power  to  bear  it  too,  my  sister.  Yet,  Anna,  in  my  misery, 
perform  me  this  one  service.  You,  and  you  only,  the  per- 
fidious man  v/as  vv^ont  to  make  his  friend  —  aye,  even  to  trust 
you  with  his  secret  thoughts.  You,  and  you  only,  know  the 
subtle  approaches  to  his  heart,  and  the  times  of  essaying  them. 
Go,  then,  my  sister,  and  supplicate  our  haughty  foe.  Tell  him 
I  was  no  party  to  the  Danaan  league  at  Aulis  to  destroy  the 
Trojan  nation;  I  sent  no  ships  to  Pergamus;  I  never  disin- 
terred his  father  Anchises,  his  dust  or  his  spirit.  Why  will  he 
not  let  my  words  sink  down  into  his  obdurate  ears?  Whither 
is  he  hurrying?  Let  him  grant  this  last  boon  to  her  who  loves 
him  so  wildly;  let  him  wait  till  the  way  is  smoothed  for  his 
flight,  and  there  are  winds  to  waft  him.  I  am  not  asking  him 
now  to  renew  our  old  vows  which  he  has  forsworn.  I  am  not 
asking  him  to  forego  his  fair  Latium,  and  resign  his  crown.  I 
entreat  but  a  few  vacant  hours,  a  respite  and  breathing  space 
for  my  passion,  till  my  fortune  shall  have  taught  baffled  love 
how  to  grieve.  This  is  my  last  request  of  you.  Oh,  pity  your 
poor  sister!  —  a  request  which  when  granted  shall  be  returned 
with  interest  in  death." 

Such  was  her  appeal  —  such  the  wailing  which  her  afflicted 
sister  bears  to  him,  and  bears  again ;  but  no  wailing  moves  him, 
no  words  find  him  a  gentle  listener.  Fate  bars  the  way,  and 
Heaven  closes  the  hero's  relenting  ears.  Even  as  an  aged  oak, 
still  hale  and  strong,  which  Alpine  winds,  blowing  now  here, 
now  there,  strive  emulously  to  uproot  —  a  loud  noise  is  heard, 
and,  as  the  stem  rocks,  hea])s  of  leaves  pile  the  ground;  but 


354  DIDO  IN  LOVE. 

tlie  tree  cleaves  firmly  to  the  cliff;  liigb  as  its  head  strikes 
into  the  air,  so  deep  its  root  strikes  down  to  the  abyss  — even 
thus  the  hero  is  assailed  on  all  sides  by  a  storm  of  words :  his 
mighty  breast  thrills  through  and  through  with  agony;  but 
his^'mind  is  unshaken,  and  tears  are  showered  in  vain. 

Then  at  last,  maddened  by  her  destiny,  poor  Dido  prays  for 
death:  heaven's  vault  is  a  weariness  to  look  on.  To  confirm 
her  in  pursuing  her  intent,  and  closing  her  eyes  on  the  sun, 
she  saw,  as  she  was  laying  her  offerings  on  the  incense-steaming 

altars horrible  to  tell  —  the  sacred  liquor  turn  black,  and  the 

streams  of  wine  curdle  into  loathly  gore.  This  appearance  she 
told  to  none,  not  even  to  her  sister.  Moreover,  there  was  in 
her  palace  a  marble  chapel  to  her  former  husband,  to  which  she 
used  to  pay  singular  honors,  wreathing  it  with  snowy  fillets 
and  festal  boughs ;  from  it  slie  thought  she  heard  a  voice,  the 
accents  of  the  dead  man  calling  her,  Avhen  the  darkness  of  night 
was  shrouding  the  earth ;  and  on  the  roof  a  lonely  owl  in  funereal 
tones  kept  complaining  again  and  again,  and  drawing  out  v/ail- 
ingly  its  protracted  notes ;  and  a  thousand  predictions  of  seers 
of  other  days  come  back  on  her,  terrifying  her  v.-ith  their  awful 
warnings.  When  she  dreams,  there  is  ^neas  himself  driving 
her  in  furious  chase:  she  seems  always  being  left  alone  to  her- 
self, always  pacing  companionless  on  a  never-ending  road,  and 
looking  for  her  T^Tians  in  a  realm  without  inhabitants  —  like 
Pentheus,  when  in  frenzy  he  sees  troops  of  Furies,  and  tv/o 
sons,  and  a  double  Thebes  rising  round  him;  or  Agamemnon's 
Orestes  rushing  over  the  stage,  as  he  flies  from  his  mother, 
who  is  armed  with  torches  and  deadly  snakes,  while  the  aveng- 
ing fiends  sit  couched  on  the  threshold. 

So  when,  spent  with  agony,  she  gave  conception  to  the  demon, 
and  resolved  on  death,  she  settled  with  herself  time  and  means, 
and  thus  bespoke  her  grieving  sister,  her  face  disguising  her 
intent,  and  hope  smiling  on  her  brov/:  "Dearest,  I  have 
found  a  way  —  wish  me  joy,  as  a  sister  should  —  to  bring  him 
back  to  me,  or  to  loose  me  from  the  love  which  binds  me  to 
him.  Hard  by  the  bound  of  ocean  and  the  setting  sun  lies  the 
extreme  Ethiopian  clime,  where  mighty  Atlas  turns  round  on 
his  shoulders  the  pole,  studded  with  burning  stars.  From  that 
clime,  I  have  heard  of  a  priestess  of  the  Massylian  race,  once 
guardian  of  the  temple  of  the  Hesperides,  who  used  to  give  the 
tlragon  his  food,  and  so  preserve  the  sacred  boughs  on  the  tree, 
sprinkling  for  him  moist  honey  and  drowsy  poppy  seed.     Shii, 


DIDO  IN  LOVE.  355 

by  lier  spells,  undertakes  to  release  souls  at  her  pleasure,  while 
into  ethers  she  shoots  cruel  pangs ;  she  stops  the  water  in  the 
river  bed,  and  turns  back  the  stars  in  their  courses,  and  calls 
ghosts  from  realms  of  night.  You  will  see  the  earth  bellowing 
under  you,  and  the  ashes  coming  down  from  the  mountain  top. 
By  the  gods  I  swear,  dearest  sister,  by  you  and  your  dear  life,  that 
unwillingly  I  gird  on  the  weapons  of  magic.  Do  you,  in  the 
privacy  of  the  inner  court,  build  a  pile  to  the  open  sky;  lay  on 
it  the  arms  which  that  godless  man  left  hanging  in  the  chamber, 
and  all  his  doffed  apparel,  and  the  nuptial  bed  which  was  my 
undoing.  To  destroy  every  memorial  of  the  hateful  wretch  is 
my  pleasure,  and  the  priestess'  bidding.'  This  said,  she  is 
silent  —  paleness  overspreads  her  face.  Yet  Anna  does  not 
dream  that  these  strange  rites  are  a  veil  to  hide  her  sister's 
death:  she  cannot  grasp  frenzy  like  that;  she  fears  no  darker 
day  than  that  of  their  mourning  for  Sychseus,  and  so  she  does 
her  bidding. 

Bat  the  queen,  when  the  pile  had  been  built  in  the  heart  of 
the  palace  to  the  open  sky,  a  giant  mass  of  pine  wood  and  hewn 
oak,  spans  the  place  with  garlands,  and  crowns  it  with  funeral 
boughs.  High  above  it  on  the  couch  she  sets  the  doffed  apparel, 
and  the  sword  that  had  been  left,  and  the  image  of  the  false 
lover,  knowing  too  well  what  was  to  come.  Altars  rise  here 
and  there;  the  priestess,  with  hair  disheveled,  thunders  out 
the  roll  of  three  hundred  gods,  Erebus  and  Chaos,  and  Hecate 
with  her  triple  form  —  the  three  faces  borne  by  maiden  Dian. 
See!  she  has  sprinkled  water,  brought,  so  she  feigns,  from 
Avernus'  spring,  and  she  is  getting  green  downy  herbs,  cropped 
by  moonlight  with  brazen  shears,  whose  sap  is  the  milk  of 
deadly  poison,  and  the  love  charm,  torn  from  the  broAv  of  the 
new-born  foal,  ere  the  mother  could  snatch  it.  Dido  herself, 
with  salted  cake  and  pure  hands  at  the  altars,  one  foot  unshod, 
her  vest  ungirdled,  makes  her  dying  appeal  to  the  gods  and  to 
the  stars  who  share  Fate's  counsels,  begging  the  powers,  if  any 
there  be,  that  watch,  righteous  and  unforgetting,  over  ill-yoked 
lovers,  to  hear  her  prayer. 

It  was  night,  and  overtoiled  mortality  throughout  the  earth 
Vv'as  enjoying  peaceful  slumber;  the  woods  were  at  rest,  and 
the  raging  v>'aves  —  the  hour  when  the  stars  are  rolling  midway 
in  their  smooth  courses,  when  all  the  land  is  hushed,  cattle, 
and  gay-plumed  birds,  haunters  far  and  wide  of  clear  waters 
and  rough  forest  ground,  lapped  in  sleep  with  stilly  night  over- 


356  DIDO  m  LOVE. 

liea(\  their  troubles  assuaged,  their  hearts  dead  to  care.  Not 
so  thi  vexed  spirit  of  Phoenicia's  daughter;  she  never  relaxes 
into  slumber,  or  welcomes  the  night  to  eye  or  bosom;  sorrow 
doubles  peal  on  peal;  once  more  love  swells,  and  storms,  and 
surges,  with  a  mighty  tempest  of  passion.  Thus,  then,  she 
plunges  into  speech,  and  whirls  her  thoughts  about  thus  in  the 
depths  of  her  soul:  "What  am  I  about?  Am  I  to  make  fresh 
proof  of  my  former  suitors,  with  scorn  before  me?  Must  I 
stoop  to  court  Nomad  bridegrooms,  whose  offered  hand  I  have 
spurned  so  often?  Well,  then,  shall  I  follow  the  fleet  of  Ilion, 
and  be  at  the  beck  and  call  of  Teucrian  masters  ?  Is  it  that 
they  think  with  pleasure  on  the  succor  once  rendered  them? 
that  gratitude  for  past  kindness  yet  lives  in  their  memoiy? 
But  even  if  I  wished  it,  who  will  give  me  leave,  or  admit  the 
unwelcome  guest  to  his  haughty  ships?  Are  you  so  ignorant, 
poor  wretch  ?  Do  you  not  yet  understand  the  perjury  of  the 
race  of  Laornedon?  What  then?  Shall  I  fly  alone,  and  swell 
the  triumph  of  their  crews?  or  shall  I  put  to  sea,  with  th3 
Tyrians  and  the  whole  force  of  my  people  at  my  back,  dragging 
those  whom  it  was  so  hard  to  uproot  from  their  Sidonian  home 
again  into  the  deep,  and  bidding  them  spread  sail  to  the  winds  ? 
No!  —  die  the  death  you  have  merited,  and  let  the  sword  put 
3'our  sorrow  to  flight.  You,  sister,  are  the  cause ;  overmastered 
by  my  tears,  you  heap  this  deadly  fuel  on  my  flame,  and  fling 
me  upon  my  enemy.  Why  could  I  not  forswear  wedlock,  and 
live  an  unblamed  life  in  savage  freedom,  nor  meddle  wiili 
troubles  like  these  ?  Why  did  I  not  keep  the  faith  I  vowed  to 
the  ashes  of  Sychseus?"  Such  were  the  reproaches  that  broke 
from  that  bursting  heart. 

Meanwhile  JEneas,  resolved  on  his  journey,  was  slumbering 
in  his  vessel's  tall  stern,  all  being  now  in  readiness.  To  him 
a  vision  of  the  god  appearing  again  with  the  same  countenance, 
presented  itself  as  he  slept,  and  seemed  to  give  this  second 
warning  —  the  perfect  picture  of  Mercury,  his  voice,  his  bloom- 
ing hue,  his  yellow  locks,  and  the  youthful  grace  of  his  frame : 
"Goddess-born,  at  a  crisis  like  this  can  you  slumber  on? 
Do  you  not  see  the  wall  of  danger  which  is  fast  rising  round 
you,  infatuate  that  you  are,  nor  hear  the  favoring  whisper  of 
the  western  gale  ?  She  is  revolving  in  her  bosom  thoughts  of 
craft  and  cruelty,  resolved  on  death,  and  surging  wath  a  change- 
ful tempest  of  passion.  Will  you  not  haste  away  while  haste 
is  in  your  power?    You  will  look  on  a  sea  convulsed  with 


DIDO  IN  LOVE.  367 

sliips,  an  array  of  fierce  torch  fires,  a  coast  glov/ing  with  flame, 
if  the  dawn  goddess  shall  have  found  you  loitering  here  on 
land.  Quick!  — burst  through  delay.  A  thing  of  moods  and 
changes  is  woman  ever."  He  said,  and  was  lost  in  the  dark- 
ness of  night. 

At  once  ^neas,  scared  by  the  sudden  apparition,  springs  up 
from  sleep,  and  rouses  his  comrades.  "Wake  in  a  moment, 
my  friends,  and  seat  you  on  the  benches.  Unfurl  the  sails 
with  all  speed.  See!  here  is  a  god  sent  down  from  heaven  on 
liigh,  urging  us  again  to  hasten  our  flight,  and  cut  the  twisted 
cables.  Yes !  sacred  power,  we  follow  thee,  whoever  thou  art, 
and  a  second  time  with  joy  obey  thy  behest.  Be  thou  with  us, 
and  graciously  aid  us,  and  let  propitious  stars  be  ascendant  in 
the  sky."  So  saying,  he  snatches  from  the  scabbard  his  flash- 
ing sword,  and  with  the  drawn  blade  cuts  the  hawsers.  The 
Kpark  flies  from  man  to  man ;  they  scour,  they  scud,  they  have 
left  the  shore  behind;  you  cannot  see  the  water  for  ships. 
With  strong  strokes  they  dash  the  foam,  and  sweep  the  blue. 

And  now  Aurora  was  beginning  to  sprinkle  the  earth  with 
fresh  light,  rising  from  Tithonus'  saffron  couch.  Soon  as  the 
queen  from  her  watchtower  saw  the  gray  dawn  brighten,  and 
the  fleet  moving  on  with  even  canvas,  and  coast  and  haven  for- 
saken, with  never  an  oar  left,  thrice  and  again  smiting  her 
beauteous  breast  with  her  hands,  and  rending  her  golden  locks, 
"Great  Jupiter!"  cries  she,  "shall  he  go?  Shall  a  chance 
comer  boast  of  having  flouted  our  realm?  Will  they  not  get 
their  arms  at  once,  and  give  chase  from  all  the  town,  and  pull, 
some  of  them,  the  ships  from  the  docks?  Away!  bring  fire; 
quick !  get  darts,  ply  oars !  VV^hat  am  I  saying  ?  Where  am  I  ? 
What  madness  turns  my  brain  ?  Wretched  Dido!  do  your  sins 
sting  you  now?  They  should  have  done  so  then,  when  you 
were  giving  your  crown  away.  What  truth!  what  fealty!  — 
the  man  who,  they  say,  carries  about  with  him  the  gods  of  his 
country,  and  took  up  on  his  shoulders  his  old  worn-out  father! 
Might  I  not  have  caught  and  torn  him  piecemeal,  and  scattered 
him  to  the  weaves?  —  destroyed  his  friends,  aj^e,  and  his  own 
Ascanius,  and  served  up  the  boy  for  his  father's  meal?  But 
the  chance  of  a  battle  would  have  been  doubtful.  Let  it  have 
been.  I  was  to  die,  and  whom  had  I  to  fear?  I  would  have 
flung  torches  into  his  camp,  filled  h^.s  decks  with  flame,  con- 
sumed son  and  sire  and  the  whole  line,  and  leapt  myself  upon 
the  pile.     Sun,  whose  torch  shows  thee  all  that  is  done  on  earth. 


358  DIDO  IN  LOVE. 

and  thou,  Juno,  revealer  and  witness  of  these  stirrings  of  the 
heart,  and  Hecate,  whose  name  is  yelled  in  civic  crossways  by 
night,  avenging  fiends,  and  gods  of  dying  Elissa,  listen  to  this! 
Let  your  power  stoop  to  ills  that  call  for  it,  and  hear  what  I 
now  pray!  If  it  must  needs  be  that  the  accursed  wretch  gain 
the  haven  and  float  to  shore  —  if  such  the  requirement  of  Jove's 
destiny,  such  the  fixed  goal  —  yet  grant  that,  harassed  by  the 
sword  and  battle  of  a  warlike  nation,  a  wanderer  from  his  own 
confines,  torn  from  his  lulus'  arms,  he  may  pray  for  succor,  and 
see  his  friends  dying  miserably  round  him!  Nor  when  he  has 
yielded  to  the  terms  of  an  unjust  peace,  may  he  enjoy  his  crown, 
or  the  life  he  loves ;  but  may  he  fall  before  his  time,  and  lie 
unburied  in  the  midst  of  the  plain!  This  is  my  prayer  —  these 
the  last  accents  that  flow  from  me  with  my  lifeblood.  And 
you,  my  Tyrians,  let  your  hatred  persecute  the  race  and  people 
for  all  time  to  come.  Be  this  the  offering  you  send  down  to 
ray  ashes:  never  be  there  love  or  league  between  nation  and 
nation.  Arise  from  my  bones,  my  unknown  avenger,  destined 
with  fire  and  sword  to  pursue  the  Dardanian  settlers,  now  or  in 
after  days,  whenever  strength  shall  be  given!  Let  coast  be  at 
war  with  coast,  water  with  wave,  army  with  army;  fight  they, 
and  their  sons,  and  their  sons'  sons!  " 

Thus  she  said,  as  she  whirled  her  thought  to  this  side  and 
that,  seeking  at  once  to  cut  short  the  life  she  now  abhorred. 
Then  briefly  she  spoke  to  Barce,  Sych?eus'  nurse,  for  her  own 
was  left  in  lier  old  country,  in  the  black  ashes  of  the  grave: 
"Fetch  me  here,  dear  nurse,  my  sister  Anna.  Bid  her  hasten 
to  sprinkle  herself  with  water  from  the  stream,  and  bring  with 
her  the  cattle  and  the  atoning  offerings  prescribed.  Let  her 
come  with  these;  and  do  you  cover  your  brow  with  the  holy 
fillet.  The  sacrifice  to  St3'gian  Jove,  which  I  have  duly  com- 
menced and  made  ready,  I  wish  now  to  accomplish,  and  with 
it  the  end  of  my  sorrows,  giving  to  the  flame  the  pile  that 
pillows  the  Dardan  head!"  She  said:  the  nurse  began  to 
quicken  her  pace  with  an  old  wife's  zeal. 

But  Dido,  wildered  and  maddened  by  her  enormous  resolve, 
rolling  her  bloodshot  eye,  her  quivering  cheeks  stained  with 
fiery  streaks,  and  pale  with  the  shadow  of  death,  bursts  the 
door  of  the  inner  palace,  and  frantically  climbs  the  tall  pile, 
and  unsheathes  the  Dardan  sword,  a  gift  procured  for  a  far 
different  end.  Then,  after  surveying  the  Trojan  garments  and 
the  bed,  too  well  known,  and  pausing  awhile   to  weep  and 


DIDO  IN  LOVE.  359 

think,  she  pressed  her  bosom  to  the  couch,  and  uttered  her  last 
words :  — 

"  Relics,  once  darlings  of  mine,  while  Fate  and  Heaven  gave 
leave,  receive  this  my  soul,  and  release  me  from  these  my  sor- 
rows. I  have  lived  my  life  —  the  course  assigned  me  by  For- 
tune is  run,  and  now  the  august  phantom  of  Dido  shall  pass 
underground.  I  have  built  a  splendid  city.  I  have  seen  my 
walls  completed.  In  vengeance  for  a  husband,  I  have  punished 
a  brother  that  hated  me  —  blest,  ah!  blest  beyond  human  bliss, 
if  only  Dardan  ships  had  never  touched  coasts  of  ours!  "  She 
spoke  —  and  kissing  the  couch:  "Is  it  to  be  death  without 
revenge?  But  be  it  death,"  she  cries  —  "this,  this  is  the  road 
by  which  I  love  to  pass  to  the  shades.  Let  the  heartless  Dar- 
danian's  eyes  drink  in  this  flame  from  the  deep,  and  let  him 
carry  v/ith  him  the  presage  of  my  death." 

She  spoke,  and  even  while  she  was  yet  speaking,  her  attend- 
ants see  her  fallen  on  the  sword,  the  blade  spouting  blood, 
and  her  hands  dabbled  in  it.  Their  shrieks  rise  to  the  lofty 
roof;  Fame  runs  wild  through  the  convulsed  city.  With  wail- 
ing and  groaning,  and  screams  of  women,  the  palace  rings ;  the 
sky  resounds  with  mighty  cries  and  beating  of  breasts  —  even 
as  if  the  foe  were  to  burst  the  gates  and  topple  down  Carthage 
or  ancient  Tjtc,  and  the  infuriate  flame  were  leaping  from  roof 
to  roof  among  the  dwellings  of  men  and  gods. 

Her  sister  heard  it.  Breathless  and  frantic,  with  wild  speed, 
disfiguring  her  cheeks  with  her  nails,  her  bosom  with  her  fists, 
she  bursts  through  the  press,  and  calls  by  name  on  the  dying 
queen:  "Was  this  3^our  secret,  sister?  Were  you  plotting 
to  cheat  me?  Was  this  what  your  pile  was  preparing  for  me, 
your  fires,  and  j^our  altars  ?  What  should  a  lone  heart  grieve 
for  first?  Did  you  disdain  your  sister's  company  in  death? 
You  should  have  called  me  to  share  your  fate  —  the  same  keen 
sword  pang,  the  same  hour,  should  have  been  the  end  of  both. 
And  did  these  hands  build  the  pile,  this  voice  call  on  the  gods 
of  our  house,  that  you  might  lie  there,  while  I,  hard-hearted 
wretch,  was  away?  Yes,  sister,  you  have  destroyed  yourself 
and  me,  the  people  and  the  elders  of  Sidon,  and  your  own  fair 
city.  Let  in  the  water  to  the  wounds ;  let  me  cleanse  them, 
and  if  any  remains  of  breath  be  still  flickering,  catch  them  in 
my  mouth!"  As  she  thus  spoke,  she  was  at  the  top  of  the 
lofty  steps,  and  v/as  embracing  and  fondling  in  her  bosom  her 
dying  sister,  and  stanching  with  her  robe  the  black  streams  of 


300  VIRGIL'S   DIDO. 

blood.  Dido  strives  to  raise  lier  heavy  cjes,  and  sinks  down 
again;  the  deep  stab  gurgles  in  her  breast.  Thrice,  with  an 
effort,  she  lifted  and  reared  herself  up  on  her  elbow;  thrice  she 
fell  back  on  the  couch,  and  with  helpless  v/andering  eyes  aloft 
in  the  sky,  sought  for  the  light  and  groaned  when  she  found  it. 
Then  Juno  almighty,  in  compassion  for  her  lengthened  agony 
and  her  trouble  in  dying,  sent  down  Iris  from  Olympus  to  part 
the  struggling  soul  and  its  prison  of  flesh.  For,  as  she  was 
dying,  not  in  the  course  of  fate,  nor  for  any  crime  of  hei*s,  but 
in  mere  misery,  before  her  time,  the  victim  of  sudden  frenz}--, 
not  yet  had  Proserpine  carried  off  a  lock  of  her  yellow  hair, 
and  thus  doomed  her  head  to  Styx  and  the  place  of  death.  So 
then  Iris  glides  down  the  sky  with  saffron  wings  dew-besprent, 
trailing  a  thousand  various  colors  in  the  face  of  the  sun,  and 
alights  above  her  head.  "This  I  am  bidden  to  bear  away  as  an 
offering  to  Pluto,  and  hereby  set  you  free  from  the  body."  So 
saying,  she  stretches  her  hand  and  cuts  the  lock:  at  once  all 
heat  parts  from  the  frame,  and  the  life  has  passed  into  air. 

VIRGIL'S    DIDO. 

By  WALTER  SAVAGE  LANDOR. 

Without  the  sublime,  we  have  said  before,  there  can  be 
no  poet  of  the  first  order :  but  the  pathetic  may  exist  in  the 
secondary;  for  tears  are  more  easily  drawn  forth  than  souls 
are  raised.  So  easily  are  they  on  some  occasions,  that  the 
poetical  power  needs  scarcely  be  brought  into  action  ;  while  on 
the  others  the  pathetic  is  the  very  sum.mit  of  sublimity.  We 
liave  an  example  of  it  in  the  Ariadne  of  Catullus ;  we  have 
another  in  the  Priam  of  Homer.  All  the  heroes  and  gods, 
debating  and  fighting,  vanish  before  the  father  of  Hector  in  the 
tent  of  Achilles,  and  before  the  storm  of  conflicting  passions 
liis  sorrows  and  prayers  excite.  But  neither  in  the  spirited 
and  energetic  Catullus,  nor  in  the  masculine  and  scornful  and 
stern  Lucretius,  no,  nor  in  Homer,  is  there  anything  so  impas- 
sioned, and  therefore  so  sublime,  as  the  last  hour  of  Dido  in 
the  jEneid.  Admirably  as  two  Greek  poets  have  represented 
the  tenderness,  the  anguish,  the  terrific  wrath  and  vengeance 
of  Medea,  all  the  works  they  ever  wrote  contain  not  the  poetry 


PISIDICfi.  361 

which  Virgil  has  condensed  into  about  a  hundred  verses, 
omitting  as  we  must  those  which  drop  like  icicles  from  the 
rigid  lips  of  JEneas,  and  also  the  similes,  which,  here  as  every- 
where, sadly  interfere  with  passion. 


PISIDICfi.i 

By  ANDREW  LAN'G. 

The  daughter  of  the  Lesbian  king, 

Within  her  bower  she  watched  the  vra,v : 
Far  off  she  heard  the  arrows  ring, 

The  smitten  harness  ring  afar; 

And  fighting  on  the  foremost  car, 
Stood  one  who  smote  where  all  must  flee : 

Fairer  than  the  immortals  are 
He  seemed  to  fair  Pisidice ! 

She  saw,  she  loved  him,  and  her  heart 

Unto  Achilles,  Peleus'  son, 
Threw  all  its  guarded  gates  apart, 

A  maiden  fortress  lightly  won. 

And  ere  that  day  of  strife  was  done, 
No  more  of  land  or  faith  recked  she ; 

But  joyed  in  her  new  life  begun, — 
Her  life  of  love,  Pisidice ! 

She  took  a  gift  into  her  hand. 

As  one  that  has  a  boon  to  crave ; 

She  stole  across  the  ruined  land. 

Where  lay  the  dead  without  a  grave, 
And  to  Achilles'  hand  she  gave 

Her  gift,  the  secret  postern's  key : 
"  To-morrow  let  me  be  thy  slave ! " 

Moaned  to  her  love  Pisidic§. 

At  dawn  the  Argive's  clarion  call 

Pang  down  Methymna's  burning  street; 

They  slew  the  sleeping  warriors  all, 
They  drove  the  women  to  the  fleet, 

^  By  permission  of  the  Century  Company. 


362-  THE  LABOKS  OF  HERCULES. 

Save  one,  that  to  Achilles'  feet 
Clung,  but  in  sudden  wrath  cried  he, 

"  For  her  no  doom  but  death  is  meet," 
And  there  men  stoned  Pisidice. 

In  havens  of  that  haunted  coast, 

Amid  the  myrtles  of  the  shore. 
The  moon  sees  many  a  maiden  ghost. 

Love's  outcast  now  and  evermore. 

The  silence  hears  the  shades  deplore 
Their  hour  of  dear-bought  love ;  but  thee 

The  waves  lull,  'neath  thine  olives  hoar, 
To  dreamless  rest,  Pisidice ! 


THE   LABORS   OF   HERCULES. 

Deceived  by  the  evil  advice  of  Ate,  the  mischief-maker  of 
the  gods,  Jupiter  said  to  Juno  his  queen,  "  This  day  a  child 
shall  be  born  of  the  race  of  Perseus,  who  shall  be  the  mightiest 
of  all  on  earth."  He  meant  his  son  Hercules;  but  Juno  had 
a  crafty  trick  in  her  mind,  to  lay  a  heavy  curse  on  that  son, 
whom  naturally  she  hated  for  his  being  such.  She  asked  Jupi- 
ter if  what  he  had  just  said  should  surely  be  so,  and  he  gave 
the  nod  which  meant  the  vow  that  could  not  be  recalled  ;  then 
she  went  to  the  Fates  and  induced  them  to  have  Eurystheus 
born  first,  so  that  he  should  be  the  one  mortal  more  powerful 
than  Hercules,  though  a  weak,  jealous,  and  spiteful  man. 

So  the  lot  was  fixed  that  all  his  life  long  Hercules  should 
toil  at  the  will  of  a  mean  and  envious  master.  He  was  match- 
less in  strength,  courage,  and  beauty ;  but  he  was  to  have 
neither  profit  nor  comfort  from  them  till  he  should  pass  from 
the  land  of  mortals.  But  Jupiter  was  enraged  at  the  ruin  of 
his  plans  for  the  child  by  Juno's  plot ;  he  cast  forth  Ate  from 
the  halls  of  Olympus  and  forbade  her  to  dwell  again  among  the 
gods,  and  ordained  that  Hercules  should  dwell  with  the  gods 
in  Olympus  as  soon  as  his  days  of  toil  on  earth  were  ended. 

So  Hercules  grew  up  in  the  house  of  Amphitryon  (tho 
husband  of  Alcmena,  the  mother  of  the  baby  demigod),  full  of 
beauty  and  v/onderful  might.  One  day,  as  he  lay  sleeping,  two 
huge  serpents  came  into  the  chamber,  twisted  their  coils  round 


HERCULES 


THE  LABORS  OF  HERCULES.  363 

the  cradle,  and  gazed  on  him  with  their  cold,  glassy  eyes,  till 
the  sound  of  their  hissing  woke  him;  but  instead  of  being 
frightened,  he  stretched  out  his  little  arms,  caught  hold  of  the 
serpents'  necks,  and  strangled  them  to  death.  All  knew  by 
this  sign  that  he  was  to  have  terrible  struggles  with  the  evil 
things  of  the  world,  but  was  to  come  off  the  victor. 

As  he  grew  up,  no  one  could  compare  with  him  for  strength 
of  arm  and  swiftness  of  foot,  in  taming  horses,  or  in  wrestling. 
The  best  men  in  Argos  were  his  teachers ;  and  the  wise  cen- 
taur Chiron  was  his  friend,  and  taught  him  always  to  help 
the  weak  and  take  their  part  against  any  who  oppressed  them. 
For  all  his  great  strength,  none  were  more  gentle  than  Hercu- 
les ;  none  more  full  of  pity  for  those  bowed  down  by  pain  and 
labor. 

But  it  was  bitter  to  him  that  he  must  spend  his  life  slaving 
for  Eurystheus,  while  others  were  rich  in  joy  and  pleasures, 
feasts  and  games.  One  day,  thinking  of  these  things,  he  sat 
down  by  the  wayside  where  two  paths  met,  in  a  lonely  valley 
far  from  the  dwellings  of  men.  Suddenly  lifting  up  his  eyes, 
he  saw  two  women  coming  toward  him,  each  from  a  dijEferent 
road.  Both  were  fair  to  look  upon  :  but  one  had  a  soft  and 
gentle  face,  and  v/as  clad  in  pure  white.  The  other  looked 
boldly  at  Hercules ;  her  face  was  ruddier,  and  her  eyes  shone 
with  a  hot  and  restless  glitter  ;  her  thin,  embroidered  robe, 
streaming  in  long  folds  from  her  shoulders,  clung  about  her 
voluptuous  figure,  revealing  more  than  it  hid.  With  a  quick 
and  eager  step  she  hastened  to  him,  so  as  to  be  the  first  to 
speak.  And  she  said :  "  I  know,  man  of  toils  and  grief,  that 
your  heart  is  sad  within  you,  and  that  you  know  not  which 
way  to  turn.  Come  with  me,  and  I  will  lead  you  on  a  soft 
and  pleasant  road,  where  no  storms  shall  vex  you  and  no  sor- 
rows shall  trouble  you.  You  shall  never  hear  of  wars  or  fight- 
ing ;  sickness  and  pain  shall  not  come  near  you  :  but  you  shall 
feast  all  day  long  at  rich  banquets  and  listen  to  the  songs  of 
minstrels.  You  shall  not  want  for  sparkling  wine,  soft  robes, 
or  pleasant  couches  ;  you  shall  not  lack  the  delights  of  love, 
for  the  bright  eyes  of  maidens  shall  look  gently  upon  you,  and 
their  song  shall  lull  you  to  sleep." 

Hercules  said  :  "  You  promise  me  pleasant  things,  lady,  and 
T  am  sorely  pressed  down  by  a  hard  master.  What  is  your 
name  ?  " 

"  My  friends,''  said  she,  "  call  me  Pleasure  ;  those  who  look 


864  THE   LABORS  OF  HERCULES. 

on  me  with  disfavor  have  given  me  more  than  one  bad  name 
and  an  ill  repute,  but  they  speak  falsely." 

Then  the  other  said  :  "  Hercules,  I  too  know  who  you  are 
and  the  doom  laid  on  you,  and  liow  you  have  toiled  and  endured 
even  from  childhood ;  that  is  the  very  reason  I  feel  sure  you 
will  give  me  your  love.  If  you  do  so,  men  will  speak  of  your 
good  deeds  in  future  times,  and  my  name  will  be  still  more 
exalted.  Jiut  I  have  no  fine  words  to  cheat  you  with.  Noth- 
ing good  is  ever  reached,  nothing  great  is  ever  won,  without 
toil.  If  you  seek  for  fruit  from  the  earth,  you  must  tend  and 
till  it ;  if  you  would  have  the  favor  of  the  gods,  you  must  come 
before  them  with  prayers  and  offerings  ;  if  you  long  for  the 
love  of  men,  you  must  do  them  good." 

Then  the  other  brake  in  and  said  :  "  You  see,  Hercules, 
tiiat  Virtue  seeks  to  lead  you  on  a  long  and  weary  path  ;  but 
my  broad  and  easy  road  leads  quickly  to  happiness." 

Virtue  ansv/ered  with  a  flash  of  anger  in  her  pure  eyes  : 
''  Wretched  thing,  what  good  thing  liave  you  to  give,  and  what 
pleasure  can  you  feel,  who  know  not  what  it  is  to  toil  ?  Your 
lusts  are  satiated,  your  taste  is  dulled  into  indifference  or  nau- 
sea. You  drink  the  wine  before  you  are  thirsty,  and  fill  your- 
self with  dainties  before  you  are  hungry.  Though  you  are 
numbered  among  the  immortals,  the  gods  have  cast  you  forth 
out  of  heaven,  and  good  men  scorn  you.  The  sweetest  of  all 
sounds,  when  a  man's  heart  praises  him,  you  have  never  heard ; 
the  sweetest  of  all  sights,  when  a  man  looks  on  his  good  deeds, 
3'ou  have  never  seen.  Those  who  bow  down  to  you  are  weak 
and  feeble  in  youth,  and  wretched  and  loathsome  in  old  age. 
But  I  dwell  with  the  gods  in  heaven,  and  with  good  men  on  the 
earth ;  and  without  me  nothing  good  can  be  done  or  thought. 
More  tlian  all  others  I  am  hoiiored  by  the  gods  and  cherished 
by  the  men  who  love  me.  In  peace  and  in  war,  in  health  and 
in  sickness,  I  am  the  aid  of  all  who  seek  me  ;  and  my  help 
never  fails.  My  children  know  the  purest  of  all  pleasures, 
when  the  hour  of  rest  comes  after  the  toil  of  day.  In  youth 
they  are  strong,  and  their  limbs  are  quick  with  health  ;  in  old 
age  they  look  back  upon  a  happy  life  ;  and  vdien  they  lie  down 
to  the  sleep  of  death,  their  name  is  cherislied  among  men  for 
their  good  and  useful  deeds.  Love  me,  therefore,  Hercules, 
and  obey  my  words,  and  when  your  labors  are  ended  3'ou  shall 
dwell  with  me  in  the  home  of  the  immortal  gods." 

Hercules  bowed  his  head  and  swore  to  follow  Virtue's  counsels, 


THE  LABORS  OF  HERCULES.  365 

and  went  forth  with  a  good  courage  to  his  labor  and  suffering. 
He  lived  and  wrought  in  many  lands  to  obey  Eurystheus'  orders. 
He  did  good  deeds  for  men;  but  he  gained  nothing  by  them 
except  the  love  of  the  gentle  lole.  Far  away  in  CEchalia,  where 
the  sun  rises  from  the  eastern  sea,  he  saw  the  maiden  in  the 
halls  of  Eurytus,  and  sought  to  win  her  love.  But  Jupiter's 
vow  to  Juno  gave  him  no  rest.  Eurystheus  sent  him  to  other 
lands,  and  he  saw  the  maiden  no  more. 

But  Hercules  kept  up  a  good  heart,  and  the  glory  of  his  great 
deeds  became  spread  abroad  through  all  the  earth.  Minstrels 
sang  how  he  slew  the  monsters  and  savage  beasts  who  vexed  the 
sons  of  men  ;  how  he  smote  the  Hydra  in  the  land  of  Lerna, 
and  the  wild  boar  which  haunted  the  groves  of  Ery  man  thus, 
and  the  Harpies  who  lurked  in  the  swamps  of  Stymphalus. 
They  told  how  he  traveled  far  away  to  the  land  of  the  setting 
sun,  where  Eurystheus  bade  him  pluck  the  golden  apples  from 
the  garden  of  the  Hesperides  :  how  over  hill  and  dale,  across 
marsh  and  river,  through  thicket  and  forest,  he  came  to  the 
western  sea,  and  crossed  to  the  African  land  where  Atlas  lifts 
up  his  white  head  to  the  high  heaven;  how  he  smote  the  dragon 
which  guarded  the  brazen  gates,  and  brought  the  apples  to  King 
Eurystheus.  Tliey  sang  of  his  weary  journey  when  he  roamed 
throuo-h  the  land  of  the  Ethiopians  and  came  to  the  wild  and 
desolate  heights  of  Caucasus ;  how  he  saw  a  giant  form  high  on 
the  naked  rock,  and  the  vulture  which  gnawed  the  Titan's  heart 
with  its  beak ;  how  he  slew  the  bird,  and  smote  off  the  cruel 
chains,  and  set  Prometheus  free.  They  sang  how  Eurystheus 
laid  on  him  a  fruitless  task,  by  sending  him  down  to  the  dark 
land  of  King  Hades  to  bring  up  the  monster  Cerberus ;  how 
upon  the  shore  of  the  gloomy  Acheron  he  found  the  mighty 
hound  who  guards  the  home  of  Hades  and  Persephone,  seized 
him  and  brought  him  to  Eurystheus.  They  sang  of  the  days 
when  he  worked  in  the  land  of  Queen  Omphale  beneath  the 
Libyan  sun  ;  how  he  destroyed  the  walls  of  Ilion  when  Laome- 
don  was  king  ;  how  he  was  bid  to  cleanse  the  vast  stables  where 
King  Augeas  had  kept  a  thousand  horses  for  thirty  years  with- 
out removing  a  spadeful  of  the  filth,  and  accomplished  the 
task  by  turning  a  river  through  them  ;  and  how  he  went  to 
Calydon  and  wooed  and  won  Dejanira,  the  daughter  of  the 
chieftain  GEneus. 

He  dwelt  a  long  time  in  Calydon,  and  the  people  there  loved 
him  for  his  kindly  deeds.     But  one  day  he  accidentally  killed 


366  THE  LABORS  OF  HERCULES. 

with  his  spear  the  boy  Eunomus.  The  father  held  no  grudge 
against  Hercules,  knowing  that  he  did  not  intend  the  death  ; 
but  Hercules  was  so  grieved  for  the  death  that  he  left  the 
country,  and  went  again  on  his  travels.  On  the  banks  of  the 
Evenus  he  v/ounded  with  a  poisoned  arrow  the  centaur  Nessus, 
for  attempting  to  assault  Dejanira.  As  the  poison  ran  through 
the  centaur's  veins,  he  was  frenzied  v/ith  a  desire  to  revenge 
liimself  on  Hercules  ;  and  under  guise  of  forgiveness  and  good 
will  to  Dejanira,  he  advised  her  to  fill  a  shell  with  his  blood, 
and  if  ever  she  lost  the  love  of  Hercules,  to  spread  it  on  a  robe 
for  him  to  wear,  and  the  love  would  return. 

So  Nessus  died;  and  Hercules  went  to  the  land  of  Trachis, 
and  there  Dejanira  remained  v/hile  he  journeyed  to  the  far 
East.  Years  passed,  and  he  did  not  return.  At  last  news  came 
of  great  deeds  he  had  done  in  distant  lands ;  among  them  that 
he  had  slain  Eurytus,  the  king  of  GEchalia,  and  taken  a  willing 
captive  his  daughter  lole,  the  most  beautiful  maiden  in  the 
land. 

Then  the  words  of  Nessus  came  back  to  Dejanira:  she 
thought  Hercules'  love  had  gone  from  her,  and  to  win  it  back 
she  smeared  a  richly  embroidered  robe  with  the  centaur's  blood, 
and  with  a  message  full  of  heartfelt  love  and  honor  sent  it  to 
hi.  I  to  wear.  The  messenger  found  him  offering  sacrifice  to  his 
fatner  Jupiter,  and  gave  him  the  robe  in  token  of  Dejanira's 
love.  Hercules  wrapped  it  round  him,  and  stood  by  the  altar 
while  the  black  smoke  rolled  up  toward  heaven.  Presently  the 
vengeance  of  Nessus  was  accomplished  :  the  poison  began  to 
burn  fiercely  through  Hercules'  veins.  He  strove  in  vain  to 
tear  off  the  robe  :  it  had  become  as  part  of  his  own  skin,  and 
he  only  tore  pieces  out  of  his  own  flesh  in  the  attempt ;  as  he 
writhed  in  agony,  the  blood  poured  from  his  body  in  streams. 

Then  the  maiden  lole  came  to  his  side,  and  sought  to  soothe 
his  agony  with  her  gentle  hands  and  to  cheer  him  with  pitying 
words.  Then  once  more  his  face  flushed  with  a  deep  joy,  and 
his  eye  glanced  with  a  pure  light,  as  in  the  days  of  his  young 
might ;  and  he  said  :  "  Ah,  lole,  my  first  and  best  love,  your 
voice  is  my  comfort  as  I  sink  do^vn  into  the  sleep  of  death.  I 
loved  you  in  my  morning  time  ;  but  Fate  would  not  give  you 
to  me  for  a  companion  in  my  long  wanderings.  But  I  will 
v/aste  none  of  my  short  final  happiness  in  grieving  now  :  j^ou 
are  with  me  to  be  the  last  thing  I  see  or  hear  or  think  of  in 
life."     Then  he  made  them  carry  him  to  the  high  crest  of  Mount 


HYPERION.  367 

CEta  and  gather  wood.  When  all  was  ready,  he  lay  down  to 
rest  on  ihe  huge  pyre,  and  they  kindled  it.  The  shades  were 
darkening  the  sky,  but  Hercules  tried  still  to  pierce  them  with 
his  eyes  to  gaze  on  lole's  face  and  cheer  her  in  her  sorrow. 
"Weep  not,  lole,"  he  said:  "my  labors  are  done,  and  now  is 
the  time  for  rest.  I  shall  see  you  again  in  the  land  where  night 
never  comes." 

Darker  and  darker  grew  the  evening  shades  ;  and  only  the 
blazing  of  the  funeral  pile  on  the  mountain  top  pierced  the 
blackness  of  the  gloom.  Then  a  thundercloud  came  down  from 
heaven  and  its  bolt  crashed  through  the  air.  So  Jupiter  carried 
his  child  home,  and  the  halls  of  Olympus  were  opened  to  wel- 
come the  hero  who  rested  from  his  matchless  labors. 


HYPERION. 

By  JOHN  KEATS. 

[John  Keats  :  Au  Euglisli  poet,  sometimes  called  "The  Poets'  Poet"  ;  born 
at  Moorsfield,  Loudon,  October  31,  1795  ;  died  at  Rome,  Italy,  February  23, 1821. 
His  first  poem,  "Endymion,"  was  issued  when  he  was  twenty-three.  It  has 
beautiful  passages,  but  is  incoherent.  Its  great  promise  was  more  than  fulfilled 
in  his  second  volume,  published  in  1820,  and  containing  many  noble  sonnets, 
the  immortal  "  Ode  on  a  Grecian  Urn,"  "The  Eve  of  St.  Agnes,"  etc.  The 
'•  Love  Letters  to  Fanny  Brawue  "  appeared  in  1878  j  his  "Letters  to  his  Family 
and  Friends,"  in  1891.] 

Book  I. 

Deep  in  the  shady  sadness  of  a  vale 

Far  sunken  from  the  healthy  breath  of  morn, 

Far  from  the  fiery  noon,  and  eve's  one  star, 

Sat  gray-haired  Saturn,  quiet  as  a  stone, 

Still  as  the  silence  round  about  his  lair; 

Forest  on  forest  hung  about  his  head 

Like  cloud  on  cloud.     No  stir  of  air  was  there, 

Not  so  much  life  as  on  a  summer's  day 

Eobs  not  one  light  seed  from  the  feathered  grass. 

But  where  the  dead  leaf  fell,  there  did  it  rest. 

A  stream  went  voiceless  by,  still  deadened  more 

By  reason  of  his  fallen  divinity 

Spreading  a  shade:  the  Naiad  'mid  her  reeds 

Pressed  her  cold  finger  closer  to  her  lips. 


3()S  HYPEKION. 

Along  the  margiu  sand  large  footmarks  went, 
No  further  than  to  where  his  feet  had  strayed, 
And  slept  there  since.     Upon  the  sodden  ground 
His  old  right  hand  lay  nerveless,  listless,  dead, 
Unsceptered;  and  his  realmless  eyes  were  closed; 
While  his  bowed  head  seemed  list'ning  to  the  Earth, 
His  ancient  mother,  for  some  comfort  yet. 

It  seemed  no  force  could  wake  him  from  his  place; 
But  there  came  one,  who  with  a  kindred  hand 
Touched  his  wide  shoulders,  after  bending  low 
"With  reverence,  though  to  one  who  knew  it  not. 
She  was  a  Goddess  of  the  infant  world; 
By  her  in  stature  the  tall  Amazon 
Had  stood  a  pigmy's  height:  she  would  have  ta'en 
Achilles  by  the  hair  and  bent  his  neck; 
Or  with  a  finger  stayed  Ixion's  v/heel. 
Her  face  was  large  as  that  of  Memphian  sphinx. 
Pedestaled  haply  m  a  palace  court. 
When  sages  looked  to  Egypt  for  their  lore. 
But  oh!  how  unlike  marble  was  that  face: 
How  beautiful,  if  sorrow  had  not  made 
Sorrow  more  beautiful  than  Beauty's  self. 
There  was  a  listening  fear  in  her  regard. 
As  if  calamity  had  but  begun; 
As  if  the  vanward  clouds  of  evil  days 
Had  spent  their  malice,  and  the  sullen  rear 
W^as  with  its  stored  thunder  laboring  up. 
One  hand  she  pressed  upon  that  aching  spot 
Where  beats  the  human  heart,  as  if  just  there, 
Though  an  immortal,  she  felt  cruel  pain : 
The  other  upon  Saturn's  bended  neck 
She  laid,  and  to  the  level  of  his  ear 
Leaning  with  parted  lips,  some  words  she  spake 
In  solemn  tenor  and  deep  organ  tone : 
Some  mourning  words,  which  in  our  feeble  tongue 
Would  come  in  these  like  accents;  0  how  frail 
To  that  large  utterance  of  the  early  Gods! 
"Saturn,  look  up!  —  though  wherefore,  poor  old  King? 
I  have  no  comfort  for  thee,  no  not  one : 
I  cannot  say,  '0  wherefore  sleepest  thou?' 
For  heaven  is  parted  from  thee,  and  the  earth 
Knows  thee  not,  thus  afflicted,  for  a  God; 
And  ocean  too,  with  all  its  solemn  noise, 
Has  from  thy  scepter  passed;  and  all  the  air 


?2i 

pq 

a; 
O 

a 


HYPERION.  ZOQ 

Is  emptied  of  thine  hoary  majesty. 
Thy  thunder,  conscious  of  the  new  command, 
Rumbles  reluctant  o'er  our  fallen  house ; 
And  thy  sharp  lightning  in  unpracticed  hands 
Scorches  and  burns  our  once  serene  domain. 
O  aching  time!  O  moments  big  as  years! 
All  as  ye  pass  swell  out  the  monstrous  truth, 
And  press  it  so  upon  our  weary  griefs 
That  unbelief  has  not  a  space  to  breathe. 
Saturn,  sleep  on:  —  0  thoughtless,  why  did  I 
Thus  violate  thy  slumbrous  solitude? 
Why  should  I  ope  thy  melancholy  eyes? 
Saturn,  sleep  on!  while  at  thy  feet  I  weep." 

As  when,  upon  a  tranced  summer  night, 
Those  green-robed  senators  of  mighty  woods, 
Tall  oaks,  branch-charmed  by  the  earnest  stars, 
Dream,  and  so  dream  all  night  without  a  stir. 
Save  from  one  gradual  solitary  gust 
AVhich  comes  upon  the  silence,  and  dies  off, 
As  if  the  ebbing  air  had  but  one  wave; 
So  came  these  words  and  went;  the  while  in  tears 
She  touched  her  fair  large  forehead  to  the  ground, 
Just  where  her  falling  hair  might  be  outspread 
A  soft  and  silken  mat  for  Saturn's  feet. 
(Jne  moon,  with  alteration  slow,  had  shed 
Her  silver  seasons  four  upon  the  night, 
And  still  these  two  were  postured  motionless. 
Like  natural  sculpture  in  cathedral  cavern; 
The  frozen  God  still  couchant  on  the  earth, 
And  the  sad  Goddess  weeping  at  his  feet: 
Until  at  length  old  Saturn  lifted  up 
His  faded  eyes,  and  saw  his  kingdom  gone, 
And  all  the  gloom  and  sorrow  of  the  place. 
And  that  fair  kneeling  Goddess;  and  then  spake, 
As  with  a  palsied  tongue,  and  while  his  beard 
Shook  horrid  with  such  aspen  malady:  — 
"  O  tender  spouse  of  gold  Hyperion, 
Thea,  I  feel  thee  ere  I  see  thy  face; 
Look  up,  and  let  me  see  our  doom  in  it; 
Look  up,  and  tell  me  if  this  feeble  shape 
Is  Saturn's ;  tell  me,  if  thou  hear'st  the  voice 
Of  Saturn;  tell  me,  if  this  wrinkling  brow, 
Xaked  and  bare  of  its  great  diadem. 
Peers  like  the  front  of  Saturn.     Who  had  power 
24 


3T0  HYPERION. 

To  make  me  desolate?  whence  came  the  strength? 

How  was  it  nurtured  to  such  bursting  forth, 

While  Fate  seemed  strangled  in  my  nervous  grasp? 

But  it  is  so;  and  I  am  smothered  up, 

And  buried  from  all  godlike  exercise 

Of  influence  benign  on  planets  pale, 

Of  admonitions  to  the  winds  and  seas, 

Of  peaceful  sway  above  man's  harvesting, 

And  all  those  acts  which  Deity  supreme 

Doth  ease  its  heart  of  love  in.  —  I  am  gone 

Away  from  my  own  bosom :  I  have  left 

My  strong  identity,  my  real  self, 

Somewhere  between  the  throne,  and  where  T  sit 

Here  on  this  spot  of  earth.     Search,  Thea,  search! 

Open  thine  eyes  eterne,  and  sphere  them  round 

Upon  all  space:  space  starred,  and  lorn  of  light; 

Space  regioned  with  life  air;  and  barren  void; 

Spaces  of  fire,  and  all  the  yawn  of  hell. — 

Search,  Thea,  search!  and  tell  me,  if  thou  seest 

A  certain  shape  or  shadow,  making  way 

With  wings  or  chariot  fierce  to  repossess 

A  heaven  he  lost  erewhile:  it  must  —  it  must 

Be  of  ripe  progress  —  Saturn  must  be  King. 

Yes,  there  must  be  a  golden  victory; 

There  must  be  Gods  thrown  down,  and  trumpets  blown 

Of  triumph  calm,  and  hymns  of  festival 

Upon  the  gold  clouds  metropolitan, 

Voices  of  soft  proclaim,  and  silver  stir 

Of  strings  in  hollow  shells ;  and  there  shall  be 

Beautiful  things  made  new,  for  the  surprise 

Of  the  sky  children ;  I  will  give  command : 

Thea!  Thea!  Thea!  where  is  Saturn?" 

This  passion  lifted  him  upon  his  feet, 
And  made  his  hands  to  struggle  in  the  air. 
His  Druid  locks  to  shake  and  ooze  with  sweat, 
His  eyes  to  fever  out,  his  voice  to  cease. 
He  stood,  and  heard  not  Thea's  sobbing  deepj 
A  little  time,  and  then  again  he  snatched 
Utterance  thus.  — "But  cannot  I  create? 
Cannot  I  form?     Cannot  I  fashion  forth 
Another  world,  another  universe, 
To  overbear  and  crumble  this  to  naught? 
Where  is  another  chaos?    Where?"  — That  word 
Found  way  unto  Olympus,  and  made  quake 


HYPERION.  371 

The  rebel  three.  —  Thea  was  startled  up, 

And  in  her  bearing  was  a  sort  of  hope, 

As  thus  she  quick-voiced  spake,  yet  full  of  awe. 

"  This  cheers  our  fallen  house :  come  to  our  friends, 

0  Saturn!  come  away,  and  give  them  heart; 

1  know  the  covert,  for  thence  came  I  hither." 
Thus  brief;  then  with  beseeching  eyes  she  went 
With  backward  footing  through  the  shade  a  space: 
He  followed,  and  she  turned  to  lead  the  way 
Througli  aged  boughs,  that  yielded  like  the  mist 
Which  eagles  cleave  upmounting  from  their  nest. 

Meanwhile  in  other  realms  big  tears  were  shed, 
More  sorrow  like  to  this,  and  such  like  woe, 
Too  huge  for  mortal  tongue  or  pen  of  scribe: 
The  Titans  fierce,  self-hid,  or  prison-bound, 
Groaned  for  the  old  allegiance  once  more. 
And  listened  in  sharp  pain  for  Saturn's  voice. 
But  one  of  the  whole  mammoth-brood  still  kept 
His  sov'reignty,  and  rule,  and  majesty;  — 
Blazing  Hyperion  on  his  orbed  fire 
Still  sat,  still  snuffed  the  incense,  teeming  up 
From  man  to  the  sun's  God ;  yet  unsecure : 
For  as  among  us  mortals  omens  drear 
Fright  and  perplex,  so  also  shuddered  he  — 
Not  at  dog's  howl,  or  gloom  bird's  hated  screech, 
Or  the  familiar  visiting  of  one 
Upon  the  first  toll  of  his  passing  bell. 
Or  prophesyings  of  the  midnight  lamp; 
But  horrors,  portioned  to  a  giant  nerve. 
Oft  made  Hyperion  ache.     His  palace  bright 
Bastioned  with  pyramids  of  glowing  gold, 
And  touched  with  shade  of  bronzed  obelisks, 
Glared  a  blood-red  through  all  its  thousand  courts, 
Arches,  and  domes,  and  fiery  galleries ; 
And  all  its  curtains  of  Aurorian  clouds 
Flushed  angerly:  while  sometimes  eagle's  wings, 
Unseen  before  by  Gods  or  wondering  men. 
Darkened  the  place;  and  neighing  steeds  were  heard, 
Not  heard  before  by  Gods  or  wondering  men. 
Also,  when  he  would  taste  the  spicy  wreaths 
Of  incense,  breathed  aloft  from  sacred  hills. 
Instead  of  sweets,  his  ample  palate  took 
Savor  of  poisonous  brass  and  metal  sick : 
And  so,  when  harbored  in  the  sleepy  west, 


372  HYPERION. 

After  tlie  full  completion  of  fair  day,— , 

For  rest  divine  upon  exalted  couch 

And  slumber  in  tlie  arms  of  melody, 

He  paced  away  the  pleasant  hours  of  ease 

With  stride  colossal,  on  from  hall  to  hall; 

While  far  within  each  aisle  and  deep  recess, 

His  winged  minions  in  close  clusters  stood. 

Amazed  and  full  of  fear;  like  anxious  men 

Who  on  wide  plains  gather  in  panting  troops, 

When  earthquakes  jar  their  battlements  and  towers. 

Even  now,  while  Saturn,  roused  from  icy  trance, 

Went  step  for  step  with  Thea  through  the  woods, 

Hyperion,  leaving  twilight  in  the  rear. 

Came  slope  upon  the  threshold  of  the  west; 

Then,  as  was  wont,  his  palace  door  flew  ope 

In  smoothest  silence,  save  what  solemn  tubes, 

BloAvn  by  the  serious  Zephyrs,  gave  of  sweet 

And  wandering  sounds,  slow-breathed  melodies; 

And  like  a  rose  in  vermeil  tint  and  shape, 

In  fragrance  soft,  and  coolness  to  the  eye, 

That  inlet  to  severe  magnificence 

Stood  full  blown,  for  the  God  to  enter  in. 

He  entered,  but  he  entered  full  of  wrath ; 
His  flaming  robes  streamed  out  beyond  liis  heels, 
And  gave  a  roar,  as  if  of  earthly  fire. 
That  scared  away  the  meek  ethereal  Hours 
And  made  their  dove  wings  tremble.     On  he  flared, 
From  stately  nave  to  nave,  from  vault  to  vault, 
Through  bowers  of  fragrant  and  env/reathed  light, 
And  diamond-paved  lustrous  long  arcades, 
Until  he  reached  the  great  main  cupola; 
There  standing  fierce  beneath,  he  stampt  his  foot, 
And  from  the  basements  deep  to  the  high  towers 
Jarred  his  own  golden  region;  and  before 
The  quavering  thunder  thereupon  had  ceased, 
His  voice  leapt  out,  despite  of  godlike  curb. 
To  this  result:  "0  dreams  of  day  and  night! 
O  monstrous  forms!     0  effigies  of  pain! 
O  specters  busy  in  a  cold,  cold  gloom  I 
O  lank-eared  Phantoms  of  black-weeded  pools! 
Why  do  I  know  ye?  why  have  I  seen  ye?  why 
Is  my  eternal  essence  thus  distraught 
To  see  and  to  behold  these  horrors  new? 
Saturn  is  fallen,  am  I  too  to  fall? 
Am  I  to  leave  this  haven  of  my  rest, 


IlYrEUION.  373 

This  cradle  of  my  glory,  this  soft  clime, 

This  calm  luxuriance  of  blissful  light, 

These  crystalline  pavilions,  and  pure  fanes, 

Of  all  my  lucent  empire?     It  is  left 

Deserted,  void,  nor  any  haunt  of  mine. 

The  blaze,  the  splendor,  and  the  symmetry, 

I  cannot  see  —  but  darkness,  death  and  darkness. 

Even  here,  into  my  center  of  repose, 

Tlie  shady  visions  come  to  domineer, 

Insult,  and  blind,  and  stifle  up  my  pomp.  ^ 

Fall! — Xo,  by  Tellus  and  her  briny  robes! 

Over  the  fiery  frontier  of  my  realms 

I  will  advance  a  terrible  right  arm 

Shall  scare  that  infant  thunderer,  rebel  Jove, 

And  bid  old  Saturn  take  his  throne  again." — 

He  spake,  and  ceased,  the  while  a  heavier  threat 

Held  struggle  with  his  throat  but  came  not  forth; 

For  as  in  theaters  of  crowded  men 

Hubbub  increases  more  they  call  out  "Hush!" 

So  at  Hyperion's  words  the  Phantoms  pale 

Bestirred  themselves,  thrice  horrible  and  cold; 

And  from  the  mirrored  level  where  he  stood 

A  mist  arose,  as  from  a  scummy  marsh. 

At  this,  through  all  his  bulk  an  agony 

Crept  gradual,  from  the  feet  unto  the  crown, 

Like  a  lithe  serpent  vast  and  muscular 

Making  slow  way,  with  head  and  neck  convulsed 

From  overstrained  might.     Released,  he  fled 

To  the  eastern  gates,  and  full  six  dewy  hours 

Before  the  dawn  in  season  due  should  blush, 

He  breathed  fierce  breath  against  the  sleepy  portals, 

Cleared  them  of  heavy  vapors,  burst  them  wide 

Suddenly  on  the  ocean's  chilly  streams. 

The  planet  orb  of  fire,  whereon  he  rode 

Each  day  from  east  to  west  the  heavens  through. 

Spun  round  in  sable  curtaining  of  clouds; 

Not  therefore  veiled  quite,  blindfold,  and  hid, 

But  ever  and  anon  the  glancing  spheres, 

Circles,  and  arcs,  and  broad-belting  colure, 

Glowed  through,  and  wrought  upon  the  muffling  dark 

Sweet-shaped  lightnings  from  the  nadir  deep 

Up  to  the  zenith, —  hieroglyphics  old, 

Which  sages  and  keen-eyed  astrologers 

Then  living  on  the  earth,  with  laboring  thought 

Won  from  the  gaze  of  many  centuries : 


374  HYPERION. 

Now  lost,  save  what  we  find  on  remnants  huge 

Of  stone,  or  marble  swart;  their  import  gone. 

Their  wisdom  long  since  fled.  —  Two  wings  this  orb 

Possessed  for  glory,  two  fair  argent  wings. 

Ever  exalted  at  the  God's  approach : 

And  now,  from  forth  the  gloom  their  plumes  immense 

Eose,  one  by  one,  till  all  outspreaded  were ; 

While  still  the  dazzling  globe  maintained  eclipse, 

Awaiting  for  Hyperion's  command. 

Fain  would  he  have  commanded,  fain  took  throne 

And  bid  the  day  begin,  if  but  for  change. 

He  might  not:  — No,  though  a  primeval  God: 

The  sacred  seasons  might  not  be  disturbed. 

Therefore  the  operations  of  the  dawn 

Stayed  in  their  birth,  even  as  here  'tis  told. 

Those  silver  wings  expanded  sisterly. 

Eager  to  sail  their  orb;  the  porches  wide 

Opened  upon  the  dusk  demesnes  of  night; 

And  the  bright  Titan,  frenzied  with  new  woes, 

Unused  to  bend,  by  hard  compulsion  bent 

His  spirit  to  the  sorrow  of  the  time; 

And  all  along  a  dismal  rack  of  clouds. 

Upon  the  boundaries  of  day  and  night. 

He  stretched  himself  in  grief  and  radiance  faint. 

There  as  he  lay,  the  Heaven  with  its  stars 

Looked  down  on  him  with  pity,  and  the  voice 

Of  Coelus,  from  the  universal  space, 

Thus  whispered  low  and  solemn  in  his  ear. 

"  0  brightest  of  my  children  dear,  earth-born 

And  sky-engendered,  Son  of  Mysteries 

All  unrevealed  even  to  the  powers 

Which  met  at  thy  creating ;  at  whose  joys 

And  palpitations  sweet,  and  pleasures  soft, 

I,  Coelus,  wonder,  how  they  came  and  whence ; 

And  at  the  fruits  thereof  what  shapes  they  be, 

Distinct,  and  visible ;  symbols  divine, 

Manifestations  of  that  beauteous  life 

Diffused  unseen  throughout  eternal  space : 

Of  these  new-formed  art  thou,  0  brightest  child! 

Of  these,  thy  brethren  and  the  Goddesses ! 

There  is  sad  feud  among  ye,  and  rebellion 

Of  son  against  his  sire.     I  saw  him  fall, 

I  sav/  my  first-born  tumbled  from  his  throne! 

To  me  his  arms  were  spread,  to  me  his  voice 

Found  way  from  forth  the  thunders  round  his  head! 


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THE  GOLDEN  FLEECE.  375 

Pale  wox  I,  and  in  vapors  hid  my  face. 

Art  thou,  too,  near  such  doom?  vague  fear  there  is: 

For  I  have  seen  my  sons  most  unlike  Gods. 

Divine  ye  were  created,  and  divine 

In  sad  demeanor,  solemn,  undisturbed, 

Unrufiled,  like  high  Gods,  ye  lived  and  ruled: 

Now  I  behold  in  you  fear,  hope,  and  wrath; 

Actions  of  rage  and  passion;  even  as 

I  see  them,  on  the  mortal  world  beneath, 

In  men  who  die.  — This  is  the  grief,  0  Son! 

Sad  sign  of  ruin,  sudden  dismay,  and  fall! 

Yet  do  thou  strive ;  as  thou  art  capable, 

As  thou  canst  move  about,  an  evident  God; 

And  canst  oppose  to  each  malignant  hour 

Ethereal  presence:  —  I  am  but  a  voice; 

My  life  is  but  the  life  of  winds  and  tides, 

No  more  than  winds  and  tides  can  I  avail :  — 

But  thou  canst.  — Be  thou  therefore  in  the  van 

Of  circumstance;  yea,  seize  the  arrow's  barb 

Before  the  tense  string  murmur.  — To  the  earth! 

For  there  thou  wilt  find  Saturn,  and  his  woes. 

Meantime  I  will  keep  watch  on  thy  bright  sun, 

And  of  thy  seasons  be  a  careful  nurse."  — 

Ere  half  this  region  whisper  had  come  down, 

Hyperion  arose,  and  on  the  stars 

Lifted  his  curved  lids,  and  kept  them  wide 

Until  it  ceased;  and  still  he  kept  them  wide: 

And  still  they  were  the  same  bright,  patient  stars. 

Then  with  a  slow  incline  of  his  broad  breast, 

Like  to  a  diver  in  the  pearly  seas. 

Forward  he  stooped  over  the  airy  shore, 

And  plunged  all  noiseless  into  the  deep  night. 

»o;^o* — 

THE  GOLDEN   FLEECE. 

By  NATHANIEL  HAWTHORNE. 
[For  biographical  sketch,  see  page  232.] 

When  Jason,  the  son  of  the  dethroned  king  of  lolchos,  was 
a  little  boy,  he  was  sent  away  from  his  parents,  and  placed 
under  the  queerest  schoolmaster  that  ever  you  heard  of.  This 
learned  person  was  one  of  the  people,  or   quadrupeds,  called 


S76  THE  GOLDEN  FLEECE. 

Centaurs.  lie  lived  in  a  cavern,  and  had  tlie  body  and  legs 
of  a  white  horse,  with  the  head  and  shoulders  of  a  man.  His 
name  was  Chiron  ;  and,  in  spite  of  his  odd  appearance,  he  was 
a  very  excellent  teacher,  and  had  several  scholars,  who  after- 
wards did  him  credit  by  makhig  a  great  figure  in  the  world. 
The  famous  Hercules  was  one,  and  so  was  Achilles,  and  Phi- 
loctetes,  likewise,  and  ^sculapius,  who  acquired  immense  re- 
pute as  a  doctor.  The  good  Chiron  taught  his  pupils  how  to 
play  upon  the  harp,  and  how  to  cure  diseases,  and  how  to  use 
the  sword  and  shield,  together  with  various  other  branches  of 
education  in  which  the  lads  of  those  days  used  to  be  instructed, 
instead  of  writing  and  arithmetic. 

I  have  sometimes  suspected  that  Master  Chiron  was  not 
really  very  different  from  other  people,  but  that,  being  a  kind- 
hearted  and  merry  old  fellow,  he  was  in  the  habit  of  making 
believe  that  he  was  a  horse,  and  scrambling  about  the  school- 
room on  all  fours,  and  letting  the  little  boys  ride  upon  his  back. 
And  so,  when  his  scholars  had  grown  up,  and  grown  old,  and 
were  trotting  their  grandchildren  on  their  knees,  they  told  them 
about  the  sports  of  their  school  days ;  and  these  young  folks 
took  the  idea  that  their  grandfathers  had  been  taught  their 
letters  by  a  Centaur,  half  man  and  half  horse.  Little  children, 
not  quite  understanding  what  is  said  to  them,  often  get  such 
absurd  notions  into  their  heads,  you  know. 

Be  that  as  it  may,  it  has  always  been  told  for  a  fact  (and 
always  will  be  told,  as  long  as  the  world  lasts),  that  Chiron, 
with  the  head  of  a  schoolmaster,  had  the  body  and  legs  of  a 
horse.  Just  imagine  the  grave  old  gentleman  clattering  and 
stamping  into  tlie  schoolroom  on  his  four  hoofs,  perhaps  tread- 
ing on  some  little  fellow's  toes,  flourishing  his  switch  tail 
instead  of  a  rod,  and,  now  and  then,  trotting  out  of  doors  to 
eat  a  mouthful  of  grass  !  I  wonder  what  the  blacksmith 
charged  him  for  a  set  of  iron  shoes. 

So  Jason  dwelt  in  the  cave,  with  this  four-footed  Chiron, 
from  the  time  that  he  was  an  infant,  only  a  few  months  old, 
until  he  had  grown  to  the  full  height  of  a  man.  He  became  a 
very  good  harper,  I  suppose,  and  skillful  in  the  use  of  weapons, 
and  tolerably  acquainted  with  herbs  and  other  doctor's  stuff, 
and,  above  all,  an  admirable  horseman  ;  for,  in  teaching  young 
people  to  ride,  the  good  Chiron  must  have  been  without  a  rival 
among  schoolmasters.  At  length,  being  now  a  tall  and  athletic 
vouth,  Jason  resolved  to  seek  his  fortune  in  the  world,  without 


THE   GOLDEN  FLEECE.  377 

asking  Chiron's  advice,  or  telling-  him  anything  about  the  mat- 
ter. This  was  very  unwise,  to  be  sure  ;  and  I  hox)e  none  of  you, 
my  little  hearers,  will  ever  follow  Jason's  example.  But,  you 
are  to  understand,  ho  had  heard  how  that  he  himself  was  a 
prince  royal,  and  how  his  father,  King  yEson,  had  been  de- 
prived of  the  kingdom  of  lolchos  by  a  certain  Pelias,  who 
would  also  have  killed  Jason,  had  he  not  been  hidden  in  tho 
Centaur's  cave.  And,  being  come  to  the  strength  of  a  man, 
Jason  determined  to  set  all  this  business  to  rights,  and  to  punish 
the  wicked  Pelias  for  wronging  his  dear  father,  and  to  ca^t  him 
down  from  the  throne,  and  seat  himself  there  instead. 

With  this  intention,  he  took  a  spear  in  each  hand,  and  threw 
a  leopard's  skin  over  his  shoulders,  to  keep  off  the  rain,  and  set 
forth  on  his  travels,  with  his  long  3^ellow  ringlets  waving  in  the 
wind.  The  part  of  his  dress  on  which  he  most  prided  himself 
was  a  pair  of  sandals,  that  had  been  his  father's.  They  were 
handsomely  embroidered,  and  were  tied  upon  his  feet  with 
strings  of  gold.  But  his  whole  attire  was  such  as  people  did 
not  very  often  see  ;  and  as  he  passed  along,  the  women  and 
children  ran  to  the  doors  and  windows,  wondering  whither  this 
beautiful  youth  was  journeying,  with  his  leopard's  skin  and  his 
golden-tied  sandals,  and  what  heroic  deeds  he  meant  to  perform, 
with  a  spear  in  his  right  hand  and  another  in  his  left. 

I  know  not  how  far  Jason  had  traveled,  when  he  came  to  a 
turbulent  river,  which  rushed  right  across  his  pathwa}--,  with 
specks  of  white  foam  among  its  black  eddies,  hurrying  tumultu- 
ously  onward,  and  roaring  angrily  as  it  went.  Though  not  a 
very  broad  river  in  the  dry  seasons  of  the  year,  it  was  now 
swollen  by  heavy  rains  and  by  the  melting  of  the  snow  on  the 
sides  of  Mount  Olympus  ;  and  it  thundered  so  loudly,  and 
looked  so  wild  and  dangerous,  that  Jason,  bold  as  he  Avas, 
thought  it  prudent  to  pause  upon  the  brink.  The  bed  of  the 
stream  seemed  to  be  strewn  with  sharp  and  rugged  rocks,  some 
of  which  thrust  themselves  above  the  water.  By  and  by,  an 
uprooted  tree,  with  shattered  branches,  came  drifting  along  the 
current,  and  got  entangled  among  the  rocks.  Now  and  then,  a 
drowned  sheep,  and  once  the  carcass  of  a  cow,  floated  past. 

In  short,  the  swollen  river  had  already  done  a  great  deal  of 
mischief.  It  was  evidently  too  deep  for  Jason  to  wade,  and  too 
boisterous  for  him  to  swim  ;  he  could  see  no  bridge  ;  and  as  for 
a  boat,  had  tliere  been  any,  the  rocks  would  have  broken  it  to 
pieces  in  an  instant. 


378  THE   GOLDEN   FLEECE. 

"  See  the  poor  lad,"  said  a  cracked  voice  close  to  his  side. 
"  He  must  have  had  but  a  poor  education,  since  he  does  not 
know  how  to  cross  a  little  stream  like  this.  Or  is  he  afraid  of 
wetting  his  fine  golden-stringed  sandals  ?  It  is  a  pity  his  four- 
footed  schoolmaster  is  not  here  to  carry  him  safely  across  on  his 
back  !  " 

Jason  looked  round  greatly  surprised,  for  he  did  not  know 
that  anybody  was  near.  But  beside  him  stood  an  old  woman, 
with  a  ragged  mantle  over  her  head,  leaning  on  a  staff,  the  top 
of  which  was  carved  into  the  shape  of  a  cuckoo.  She  looked 
very  aged,  and  wrinkled,  and  infirm  ;  and  yet  her  eyes,  which 
were  as  brown  as  those  of  an  ox,  were  so  extremely  large  and 
beautiful,  that,  when  they  were  fixed  on  Jason's  eyes,  he  could 
see  nothing  else  but  them.  The  old  woman  had  a  pomegranate 
in  her  hand,  although  the  fruit  was  then  quite  out  of  season. 

"Whither  are  you  going,  Jason?"  she  now  asked. 

She  seemed  to  know  his  name,  you  will  observe  ;  and,  indeed, 
those  great  brown  eyes  looked  as  if  they  had  a  knowledge  of 
everything,  whether  past  or  to  come.  While  Jason  was  gazing 
at  her,  a  peacock  strutted  forward  and  took  his  stand  at  the  old 
woman's  side. 

"  I  am  going  to  lolchos,"  answered  the  young  man,  "  to  bid 
the  wicked  King  Pelias  come  down  from  my  father's  throne,  and 
let  me  reign  in  his  stead." 

"Ah,  well,  then,"  said  the  old  woman,  still  with  the  same 
cracked  voice,  "  if  that  is  all  your  business,  you  need  not  be 
in  a  very  great  hurry.  Just  take  me  on  your  back,  there's  a 
good  youth,  and  carry  me  across  the  river.  I  and  my  pea- 
cock have  something  to  do  on  the  other  side,  as  well  as  your- 
self." 

"  Good  mother,"  replied  Jason,  "  your  business  can  hardly 
be  so  important  as  the  pulling  down  a  king  from  his  throne. 
Besides,  as  you  may  see  for  yourself,  the  river  is  very  bois- 
terous ;  and  if  I  should  chance  to  stumble,  it  would  sweep 
both  of  us  away  more  easily  than  it  has  carried  off  yonder 
uprooted  tree.  I  would  gladly  help  you  if  I  could  ;  but  I 
doubt  whether  I  am  strong  enough  to  carry  you  across." 

"Then,"  said  she,  very  scornfully,  "neither  are  you  strong 
enough  to  pull  King  Pelias  off  his  throne.  And,  Jason,  unless 
you  will  help  an  old  woman  at  her  need,  you  ought  not  to  be 
a  king.  What  are  kings  made  for,  save  to  succor  the  feeble 
and  distressed?     But  do  as  you  jjlease.     Either  take  me  on 


THE   GOLDEN  FLEECE.  379 

your  back,  or  with  my  poor  old  limbs  I  sliall  try  my  best  to 
struggle  across  the  stream." 

Saying  tlii.s,  tlie  old  woman  poked  with  lier  staff  in  the 
river,  as  it"  to  find  the  safest  place  in  its  rocky  bed  where  she 
might  make  the  first  step.  But  Jason,  by  this  time,  had 
grown  ashamed  of  his  reluctance  to  help  her.  He  felt  that 
he  could  never  forgive  himself,  if  this  poor  feeble  creature 
should  come  to  any  harm  in  attempting  to  wrestle  against  the 
headlong  current.  The  good  Chiron,  whether  half  horse  or 
no,  had  taught  him  that  the  noblest  use  of  his  strength  was 
to  assist  the  weak  ;  and  also  that  he  must  treat  every  young 
woman  as  if  she  were  his  sister,  and  every  old  one  like  a 
mother.  Remembering  these  maxims,  the  vigorous  and  beau- 
tiful young  man  knelt  down,  and  requested  the  good  dame  to 
mount  upon  his  back. 

"  The  passage  seems  to  me  not  very  safe,"  he  remarked. 
"But  as  your  business  is  so  urgent,  I  will  try  to  carry  you 
across.     If  the  river  sweeps  you  away,  it  shall  take  me  too." 

"  That,  no  doubt,  will  be  a  great  comfort  to  both  of  us," 
quoth  the  old  woman.  "  But  never  fear.  We  shall  get  safely 
across." 

So  she  threw  her  arms  around  Jason's  neck  ;  and  lifting  her 
from  the  ground,  he  stepped  boldly  into  the  raging  and  foamy 
current,  and  began  to  stagger  away  from  the  shore.  As  for 
the  peacock,  it  alighted  on  the  old  dame's  shoulder.  Jason's 
two  spears,  one  in  each  hand,  kept  him  from  stumbling,  and 
enabled  him  to  feel  his  way  among  the  hidden  rocks ;  although, 
every  instant,  he  expected  that  his  companion  and  himself 
would  go  down  the  stream,  together  with  the  driftwood  of 
shattered  trees,  and  the  carcasses  of  the  sheep  and  cow. 
Down  came  the  cold,  snowy  torrent  from  the  steep  side  of 
Olympus,  raging  and  thundering  as  if  it  had  a  real  spite 
against  Jason,  or,  at  all  events,  were  determined  to  snatch  off 
his  living  burden  from  his  shoulders.  When  he  was  halfway 
across,  the  uprooted  tree  (which  I  have  already  told  you  about) 
broke  loose  from  among  the  rocks,  and  bore  down  upon  him, 
with  all  its  splintered  branches  sticking  out  like  the  hundred 
arms  of  the  giant  Briareus.  It  rushed  past,  however,  without 
touching  him.  But  the  next  moment,  his  foot  was  caught  in 
a  crevice  between  two  rocks,  and  stuck  there  so  fast,  that,  in 
the  effort  to  get  free,  he  lost  one  of  his  golden-stringed 
sandals. 


3S0  THE  GOLDEN  FLEECE. 

At  this  accident  Jason  could  not  help  uttering  a  cry  of 
vexation. 

"  What  is  the  matter,  Jason  ?  "  asked  the  old  woman. 

"  Matter  enough,"  said  the  young  man.  "  I  have  lost  a  san- 
dal here  among  the  rocks.  And  what  sort  of  a  figure  shall 
I  cut  at  the  court  of  King  Pelias,  with  a  golden-stringed  sandal 
on  one  foot,  and  the  other  foot  bare  !  " 

"  Do  not  take  it  to  heart,"  answered  his  companion,  cheerily. 
"You  never  met  with  better  fortune  than  in  losing  that  sandal. 
It  satisfies  me  that  you  are  the  very  person  whom  the  Speaking 
Oak  has  been  talking  about." 

Tliere  was  no  time,  just  then,  to  inquire  what  the  Speaking 
Oak  had  said.  But  the  briskness  of  her  tone  encouraged  the 
young  man  ;  and  besides,  he  had  never  in  his  life  felt  so  vigor- 
ous and  mighty  as  since  taking  this  old  woman  on  his  back. 
Instead  of  being  exhausted,  he  gathered  strength  as  he  went 
on ;  and,  struggling  up  against  the  torrent,  he  at  last  gained 
the  opposite  shore,  clambered  up  the  bank,  and  set  down  the 
old  dame  and  lier  peacock  safely  on  the  grass.  As  soon  as  this 
was  done,  however,  he  could  not  help  looking  rather  despond- 
ently at  liis  bare  foot,  with  only  a  remnant  of  the  golden 
string  of  the  sandal  clinging  round  his  ankle. 

"  You  will  get  a  handsomer  pair  of  sandals  by  and  by,"  said 
the  old  woman,  with  a  kindly  look  out  of  her  beautiful  brovvU 
eyes.  "  Only  let  King  Pelias  get  a  glimpse  of  that  bare  foot, 
and  you  shall  see  him  turn  as  pale  as  ashes,  I  promise  you. 
There  is  your  path.  Go  along,  my  good  Jason,  and  my  bless- 
ing go  with  you.  And  when  you  sit  on  your  throne,  remem- 
ber the  old  woman  whom  you  helped  over  the  river." 

With  these  words,  she  hobbled  away,  giving  him  a  smile 
over  her  shoulder  as  she  departed.  Whether  the  light  of  her 
beautiful  brown  eyes  threw  a  glory  round  about  her,  or  what- 
ever the  cause  might  be,  Jason  fancied  that  there  was  some- 
tliing  very  noble  and  majestic  in  her  figure,  after  all,  and  that, 
though  her  gait  seemed  to  be  a  rheumatic  hobble,  yet  she  moved 
with  as  much  grace  and  dignity  as  any  queen  on  earth.  Her 
peacock,  which  had  now  fluttered  down  from  her  shoulder, 
strutted  behind  her  in  prodigious  pomp,  and  spread  out  its 
magnificent  tail  on  purpose  for  Jason  to  admire  it. 

When  the  old  dame  and  her  peacock  were  out  of  sight, 
Jason  set  forward  on  his  journey.  After  traveling  a  pretty 
long  distance,  he  came  to  a  town  situated  at  the  foot  of  a  moun- 


THE  GOLDEN  FLEECE.  '  381 

tain,  and  not  a  great  way  from  the  shore  of  the  sea.  On  the 
outside  of  the  town  there  was  an  immense  crowd  of  people,  not 
only  men  and  women,  but  children,  too,  all  in  their  best  clothes, 
and  evidently  enjoying  a  holiday.  The  crowd  was  thickest 
towards  the  seashore ;  and  in  that  direction,  over  the  people's 
heads,  Jason  saw  a  wreath  of  smoke  curling  upward  to  the 
blue  sky.  He  inquired  of  one  of  the  multitude  what  town  it 
v/as,  near  by,  and  why  so  many  persons  were  here  assembled 
together. 

"  This  is  the  kingdom  of  lolchos,"  answered  the  man,  "  and 
we  are  the  subjects  of  King  Pelias.  Our  monarch  has  sum- 
moned us  together,  that  we  may  see  him  sacrifice  a  black  bull 
to  Neptune,  who,  they  say,  is  his  Majesty's  father.  Yonder  is 
the  king,  where  you  see  the  smoke  going  up  from  the  altar." 

While  the  man  spoke  he  eyed  Jason  with  great  curiosity  ; 
for  his  garb  was  quite  unlike  that  of  the  lolchians,  and  it  looked 
very  odd  to  see  a  youth  with  a  leopard's  skin  over  his  shoulders, 
and  each  hand  grasping  a  spear.  Jason  perceived,  too,  that 
the  man  stared  particularly  at  his  feet,  one  of  which,  you  remem- 
ber, was  bare,  while  the  other  was  decorated  with  his  father's 
golden-stringed  sandal. 

"  Look  at  him  !  only  look  at  liim  !  "  said  the  man  to  his 
next  neighbor.     "  Do  you  see  ?     He  wears  but  one  sandal  !  " 

Upon  this,  first  one  person,  and  then  another,  began  to  stare 
at  Jason,  and  everybody  seemed  to  be  greatly  struck  with  some- 
thing in  his  aspect ;  though  they  turned  their  eyes  much  oftener 
towards  his  feet  than  to  any  other  part  of  his  figure.  Besides, 
he  could  hear  them  whispering  to  one  another. 

"One  sandal!  One  sandal!"  they  kept  saying.  '-The 
man  with  one  sandal  !  Here  he  is  at  last !  Whence  has  ho 
come  ?  AVhat  does  he  mean  to  do  ?  What  will  the  king  say 
to  the  one-sandaled  man  ?  " 

Poor  Jason  was  greatly  abashed,  and  made  up  his  mind  that 
the  people  of  lolchos  were  exceedingly  ill  bred,  to  take  such  pub- 
lic notice  of  an  accidental  deficiency  in  his  dress.  jSIeanwhilc, 
whether  it  were  that  they  hustled  him  forward,  or  that  Jason, 
of  his  own  accord,  thrust  a  passage  through  the  crowd,  it  so 
happened  that  he  soon  found  himself  close  to  the  smoking  altar, 
where  King  Pelias  was  sacrificing  the  black  bull.  The  mur- 
mur and  hum  of  the  multitude,  in  their  surprise  at  the  spectacle 
of  Jason  with  his  one  bare  foot,  grew  so  loud  that  it  disturbed 
the  ceremonies;    and  the  king,  holding  the  great  knife  with 


382  THE   GOLDEN  FLEECE. 

which  he  was  just  gomg  to  cut  the  bull's  throat,  turned  angrily 
about,  and  fixed  his  eyes  on  Jason.  The  people  had  now  with- 
drawn from  around  him,  so  that  the  youth  stood  in  an  open 
space  near  the  smoking  altar,  front  to  front  with  the  angry 
King  Pelias. 

"Who  are  you?"  cried  the  king,  with  a  terrible  frown. 
"  And  how  dare  you  make  this  disturbance,  while  I  am  sacri- 
ficing a  black  bull  to  my  father  Neptune  ?  " 

"  It  is  no  fault  of  mine,"  answered  Jason.  "  Your  Majesty 
must  blame  the  rudeness  of  your  subjects,  who  have  raised  all 
this  tumult  because  one  of  my  feet  happens  to  be  bare." 

When  Jason  said  this,  the  king  gave  a  quick,  startled  glance 
down  at  his  feet. 

"  Ha  !  "  muttered  he,  "  here  is  the  one-sandaled  fellow,  sure 
enough  !     What  can  I  do  with  him?  " 

And  he  clutched  more  closely  the  great  knife  in  his  hand,  as 
if  he  were  half  a  mind  to  slay  Jason  instead  of  the  black  bull. 
The  people  round  about  caught  up  the  king's  words  indistinctly 
as  they  were  uttered  ;  and  first  there  was  a  murmur  among 
them,  and  then  a  loud  shout. 

"  The  one-sandaled  man  has  come  I  The  prophecy  must  be 
fulfilled !  " 

For  you  are  to  know  that,  many  years  before,  King  Pelias 
had  been  told  by  the  Speaking  Oak  of  Dodona,  that  a  man  with 
one  sandal  should  cast  him  down  from  his  throne.  On  this 
account,  he  had  given  strict  orders  that  nobody  should  ever 
come  into  his  presence,  unless  both  sandals  were  securely  tied 
upon  his  feet ;  and  he  kept  an  officer  in  his  palace,  whose  sole 
business  it  was  to  examine  people's  sandals,  and  to  supply 
them  with  a  new  pair,  at  the  expense  of  the  royal  treasury,  as 
soon  as  the  old  ones  began  to  wear  out.  In  the  whole  course 
of  the  king's  reign,  he  had  never  been  thrown  into  such  a  fright 
and  agitation  as  by  the  spectacle  of  poor  Jason's  bare  foot. 
But,  as  he  was  naturally  a  bold  and  hard-hearted  man,  he  soon 
took  courage,  and  began  to  consider  in  what  way  he  might  rid 
himself  of  this  terrible  one-sandaled  stranger. 

"  My  good  young  man,"  said  King  Pelias,  taking  the  softest 
tone  imaginable,  in  order  to  throw  Jason  off  his  guard,  "you 
are  excessively  welcome  to  my  kingdom.  Judging  by  your  dress, 
you  must  have  traveled  a  long  distance;  for  it  is  not  the  fashion 
to  wear  leopard  skins  in  this  part  of  the  world.  Pray  what  may 
I  call  your  name?  and  where  did  you  receive  your  education  ?  " 


THE   GOLDEN  FLEECE.  383 

"  M}'  name  is  Jason,"  answered  the  young  stranger.  "  Ever 
since  my  infancy,  I  liave  dwelt  in  the  cave  of  Chiron  the  Centaur. 
He  was  my  instructor,  and  taught  me  music,  and  horsemanship, 
and  how  to  cure  wounds,  and  likewise  how  to  inflict  wounds 
with  my  weapons  !  " 

"  I  have  heard  of  Chiron  the  schoolmaster,"  replied  King 
Pelias,  "  and  how  that  there  is  an  immense  deal  of  learning  and 
wisdom  in  his  head,  although  it  happens  to  be  set  on  a  horse's 
body.  It  gives  me  great  delight  to  see  one  of  his  scholars  at 
my  court.  But,  to  test  how  much  you  have  profited  under  so 
excellent  a  teacher,  will  you  allow  me  to  ask  you  a  single 
question  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  pretend  to  be  very  wise,"  said  Jason.  "  But  ask 
me  what  you  please,  and  I  will  answer  to  the  best  of  my 
ability." 

Now  King  Pelias  meant  cunningly  to  entrap  the  youno- 
man,  and  to  make  him  say  something  that  should  be  the  cause 
of  mischief  and  destruction  to  himself.  So  with  a  crafty  and 
evil  smile  upon  his  face,  he  spoke  as  follows  :  — 

"What  would  you  do,  brave  Jason,"  asked  he,  "if  there 
were  a  man  in  the  world,  by  whom,  as  you  had  reason  to 
believe,  you  were  doomed  to  be  ruined  and  slain,  —  v/hat  would 
you  do,  I  say,  if  that  man  stood  before  jou,  and  in  your 
power  ?  " 

When  Jason  saw  the  malice  and  wickedness  which  King 
Pelias  could  not  prevent  from  gleaming  out  of  his  eyes,  he 
probably  guessed  that  the  king  had  discovered  what  he  came 
for,  and  that  he  intended  to  turn  his  own  words  against  him- 
self. Still  he  scorned  to  tell  a  falsehood.  Like  an  upright 
and  honorable  prince,  as  he  was,  he  determined  to  speak  out  the 
real  truth.  Since  the  king  had  chosen  to  ask  him  the  question, 
and  since  Jason  had  promised  him  an  answer,  tliere  was  no 
right  way,  save  to  tell  him  precisely  what  would  be  the  most 
prudent  thing  to  do,  if  he  had  his  worst  enemy  in  his  power. 

Therefore,  after  a  moment's  consideration,  he  spoke  up,  with 
a  firm  and  manly  voice. 

"I  would  send  such  a  man,"  said  he,  "in  quest  of  the 
Golden  Fleece !  " 

This  enterprise,  you  will  understand,  was,  of  all  others,  the 
most  difficult  and  dangerous  in  the  world.  In  the  first  place, 
it  would  be  necessary  to  make  a  long  voyage  through  unknown 
seas.     There  was  hardly  a  hope,  or  a  possibility,  that  any  young 


384  THE  GOLDEN  FLEECE. 

man  ■who  should  undertake  this  voyage  would  either  succeed 
in  obtaining  the  Golden  Fleece,  or  would  survive  to  return 
liome  and  tell  of  the  perils  he  had  run.  The  eyes  of  King 
Pelias  sparkled  with  joy,  therefore,  when  he  heard  Jason's 
reply. 

"  Well  said,  wise  man  with  the  one  sandal !  "  cried  he. 
"Go,  then,  and,  at  the  peril  of  your  life,  bring  me  back  the 
Golden  Fleece." 

"I  go,"  answered  Jason,  composedly.  "If  I  fail,  you  need 
not  fear  that  I  will  ever  come  back  to  trouble  you  again.  But 
if  I  return  to  lolchos  with  the  prize,  then.  King  Pelias,  you 
must  hasten  down  from  your  lofty  throne,  and  give  me  your 
crown  and  scepter." 

"  That  I  v/ill,"  said  the  king,  with  a  sneer.  "  Meantime,  I 
will  keep  them  very  safely  for  you." 

The  first  thing  that  Jason  thought  of  doing,  after  he  left 
the  king's  presence,  was  to  go  to  Dodona,  and  inquire  of  the 
Talking  Oak  what  course  it  was  best  to  pui-sue.  This  wonder- 
ful tree  stood  in  the  center  of  an  ancient  wood.  Its  stately 
trunk  rose  up  a  Imndred  feet  into  the  air,  and  threw  a  broad 
and  dense  shadow  over  more  than  an  acre  of  ground.  Standing 
beneath  it,  Jason  looked  up  among  the  knotted  branches  and 
green  leaves,  and  into  the  mysterious  heart  of  the  old  tree,  and 
spoke  aloud,  as  if  he  were  addressing  some  person  who  was 
liidden  in  the  depths  of  the  foliage. 

"  What  shall  I  do,"  said  he,  "  in  order  to  win  the  Golden 
Fleece?" 

At  first  there  was  a  deep  silence,  not  only  within  the  shadow 
of  the  Talking  Oak,  but  all  through  the  solitary  wood.  In  a 
moment  or  two,  however,  the  leaves  of  the  oak  began  to  stir 
and  rustle,  as  if  a  gentle  breeze  were  wandering  amongst  them, 
although  the  other  trees  of  the  wood  were  perfectly  still.  The 
sound  grew  louder,  and  became  like  the  roar  of  a  high  wind. 
By  and  by,  Jason  imagined  that  he  could  distinguish  words, 
but  very  confusedly,  because  each  separate  leaf  of  the  tree 
seemed  to  be  a  tongue,  and  the  whole  myriad  of  tongues  were 
babbling  at  once.  But  the  noise  waxed  broader  and  deeper, 
until  it  resembled  a  tornado  sweeping  through  the  oak,  and 
making  one  great  utterance  out  of  the  thousand  and  thousand 
of  little  murmurs  which  each  leafy  tongue  had  caused  by  its 
rustling.  And  now,  though  it  still  had  the  tone  of  mighty 
v.'ind  roaring  among  the  branches,  it  was  also  like  a  deep  bass 


THE  GOLDEN  FLEECE.  385 

voice,  speaking,  as  distinctly  as  a  tree  could  be  expected  to 
speak,  the  following  words  :  — 

"  Go  to  Argus,  the  shipbuilder,  and  bid  him  build  a  galley 
with  fifty  oars." 

Then  the  voice  melted  again  into  the  indistinct  murmur  of 
the  rustling  leaves,  and  died  gradually  away.  When  it  was 
quite  gone,  Jason  felt  inclined  to  doubt  whether  he  had  actu- 
ally heard  the  words,  or  whether  his  fancy  had  not  shaped  them 
out  of  the  ordinary  sound  made  by  a  breeze,  while  passing 
through  the  thick  foliage  of  the  tree. 

But  on  inquiry  among  the  people  of  lolchos,  he  found  that 
there  was  really  a  man  in  the  city,  by  the  name  of  Argus,  who 
was  a  very  skillful  builder  of  vessels.  This  showed  some  intel- 
ligence in  the  oak  ;  else  how  should  it  have  known  that  any 
such  person  existed?  At  Jason's  request,  Argus  readily  con- 
sented to  build  him  a  galley  so  big  that  it  should  require  fifty 
strong  men  to  row  it ;  although  no  vessel  of  such  a  size  and 
burden  had  heretofore  been  seen  in  the  world.  So  the  head 
carpenter,  and  all  his  journeymen  and  apprentices,  began  their 
work  ;  and  for  a  good  while  afterwards,  there  they  were,  busily 
employed,  hewing  out  the  timbers,  and  making  a  great  clatter 
with  their  hammers ;  until  the  new  ship,  which  was  called  the 
Argo,  seemed  to  be  quite  ready  for  sea.  And,  as  the  Talking 
Oak  had  already  given  him  such  good  advice,  Jason  thought 
that  it  would  not  be  amiss  to  ask  for  a  little  more.  He  visited 
it  again,  therefore,  and  standing  beside  its  huge,  rough  trunk, 
inquired  what  he  should  do  next. 

This  time,  there  was  no  such  universal  quivering  of  the 
leaves,  throughout  the  whole  tree,  as  there  had  been  before. 
But  after  a  while,  Jason  observed  that  the  foliage  of  a  great 
branch  which  stretched  above  his  head  had  begun  to  rustle,  as 
if  the  wind  v/ere  stirring  that  one  bough,  while  all  the  other 
boughs  of  the  oak  were  at  rest. 

"  Cut  me  off !  "  said  the  branch,  as  soon  as  it  could  speak 
distinctly,  — "  cut  me  off  !  cut  me  off  !  and  carve  me  into  a 
figurehead  for  your  galley." 

Accordingly,  Jason  took  the  branch  at  its  word,  and  lopped 

it  off  the  tree.     A  carver  in  the  neighborhood  engaged  to  make 

the  figurehead.     He  was  a  tolerably  good  workman,  and  had 

already  carved   several  figureheads,  in  what  he  intended  for 

feminine  shapes,  and  looking  pretty  much  like  those  which  we 

see  nowadays  stuck  up  under  a  vessel's  bowsprit,  with  great 
23 


386  THE  GOLDEN  FLEECE. 

staring-  eyes,  that  never  wink  at  the  dash  of  the  spray.  But 
(what  was  very  strange)  the  carver  found  that  his  hand  was 
guided  by  some  unseen  power,  and  by  a  skill  beyond  his  own, 
and  that  his  tools  shaped  out  an  image  which  he  had  never 
dreamed  of.  When  the  work  was  finished,  it  turned  out  to  be 
the  figure  of  a  beautiful  woman  w^ith  a  helmet  on  her  head, 
from  beneath  which  the  long  ringlets  fell  down  upon  her 
shoulders.  On  the  left  arm  was  a  shield,  and  in  its  center 
appeared  a  lifelike  representation  of  the  head  of  Medusa  with 
the  snaky  locks.  The  right  arm  was  extended,  as  if  pointing 
onward.  The  face  of  this  wonderful  statue,  though  not  angry 
or  forbidding,  was  so  grave  and  majestic,  that  perhaps  you 
might  call  it  severe  ;  and  as  for  the  mouth,  it  seemed  just 
ready  to  unclose  its  lips,  and  utter  words  of  the  deepest 
wisdom. 

Jason  was  delighted  with  the  oaken  image,  and  gave  the 
carver  no  rest  until  it  was  completed  and  set  up  where  a 
figurehead  has  always  stood,  from  that  time  to  this,  in  the 
vessel's  prow. 

"And  now,"  cried  he,  as  he  stood  gazing  at  the  calm, 
majestic  face  of  the  statue,  "I  must  go  to  the  Talking  Oak, 
and  inquire  what  next  to  do." 

"There  is  no  need  of  that,  Jason,"  said  a  voice  which, 
though  it  was  far  lower,  reminded  him  of  the  mighty  tones 
of  the  great  oak.  "  When  you  desire  good  advice,  you  can 
seek  it  of  me." 

Jason  had  been  looking  straight  into  the  face  of  the  image 
when  these  words  were  spoken.  But  he  could  hardly  believe 
either  his  ears  or  his  eyes.  The  truth  was,  however,  that  the 
oaken  lips  had  moved,  and,  to  all  appearance,  the  voice  had 
proceeded  from  the  statue's  mouth.  Recovering  a  little  from 
his  surprise,  Jason  bethought  himself  that  the  image  had  been 
carved  out  of  the  wood  of  the  Talking  Oak,  and  that,  there- 
fore, it  was  really  no  great  wonder,  but  on  the  contrary,  the 
most  natural  thing  in  the  world,  that  it  should  possess  the 
faculty  of  speech.  It  would  have  been  very  odd,  indeed,  if  it 
had  not.  But  certainly  it  was  a  great  piece  of  good  fortune 
that  he  should  be  able  to  carry  so  wise  a  block  of  wood  along 
with  him  in  his  perilous  voyage. 

"  Tell  me,  wondrous  image,"  exclaimed  Jason,  —  "  since  you 
inherit  the  wisdom  of  the  Speaking  Oak  of  Dodona,  whose 
daughter  you   are,  —  tell   me,  where   shall   I   find  fifty  bold 


THE  GOLDEN  FLEECE.  387 

youths,  who  will  take  each  of  them  an  oar  of  my  galley  ? 
They  must  have  sturdy  arms  to  row,  and  brave  hearts  to 
encounter  perils,  or  we  shall  never  win  the  Golden  Fleece." 

"  Go,"  replied  the  oaken  image,  — "  go,  summon  all  the 
heroes  of  Greece." 

And,  in  fact,  considering  what  a  great  deed  was  to  be  done, 
could  any  advice  be  wiser  than  this  which  Jason  received  from 
the  figurehead  of  his  vessel  ?  He  lost  no  time  in  sending  mes- 
sengers to  all  the  cities,  and  making  known  to  the  whole  people 
of  Greece  that  Prince  Jason,  the  son  of  King  iEson,  was  going 
in  quest  of  the  Fleece  of  Gold,  and  that  he  desired  the  help  of 
forty-nine  of  the  bravest  and  strongest  young  men  alive,  to 
row  his  vessel  and  share  his  dangers.  And  Jason  himself 
would  be  the  fiftieth. 

At  this  news,  the  adventurous  youths,  all  over  the  country, 
began  to  bestir  themselves.  Some  of  them  had  already  fought 
with  giants,  and  slain  dragons  ;  and  the  younger  ones,  who  had 
not  yet  met  with  such  good  fortune,  thought  it  a  shame  to  have 
lived  so  long  without  getting  astride  of  a  flying  serpent,  or 
sticking  their  spears  into  a  Chimera,  or,  at  least,  thrusting 
their  right  arms  down  a  monstrous  lion's  throat.  There  was 
a  fair  prospect  that  they  would  meet  with  plenty  of  such  ad- 
ventures before  finding  the  Golden  Fleece.  As  soon  as  they 
could  furbish  up  their  helmets  and  shields,  therefore,  and  gird 
on  their  trusty  swords,  they  came  thronging  to  lolchos,  and 
clambered  on  board  the  new  galley.  Shaking  hands  with 
Jason,  they  assured  him  that  they  did  not  care  a  pin  for  their 
lives,  but  would  help  row  the  vessel  to  the  remotest  edge  of 
the  world,  and  as  much  farther  as  he  might  think  it  best  to  go. 

Many  of  these  brave  fellows  had  been  educated  by  Chiron, 
the  four-footed  pedagogue,  and  were  therefore  old  schoolmates 
of  Jason,  and  knew  him  to  be  a  lad  of  spirit.  The  mighty 
Hercules,  whose  shoulders  afterwards  held  up  the  sky,  was 
one  of  them.  And  there  were  Castor  and  Pollux,  the  twin 
brothers,  who  were  never  accused  of  being  chicken-hearted, 
although  they  had  been  hatched  out  of  an  egg ;  and  Theseus, 
who  was  so  renowned  for  killing  the  Minotaur ;  and  Lynceus, 
with  his  wonderfully  sharp  eyes,  which  could  see  through  a 
millstone,  or  look  right  down  into  the  depths  of  the  earth,  and 
discover  the  treasures  that  were  there  ;  and  Orpheus,  the  very 
best  of  harpers,  who  sang  and  played  upon  his  lyre  so  sweetly, 
that  the  brute  blasts  stood  upon  their  hind  legs,  and  capered 


388  THE  GOLDEN  FLEECE. 

merrily  to  the  music.  Yes,  and  at  some  of  his  more  moving 
tunes,  the  rocks  bestirred  their  moss-grown  bulk  out  of  the 
ground,  and  a  grove  of  forest  trees  uprooted  themselves,  and, 
nodding  their  tops  to  one  another,  performed  a  country  dance. 

One  of  the  rowers  was  a  beautiful  young  woman,  named 
Atalanta,  who  had  been  nursed  among  the  mountains  by  a 
bear.  So  light  of  foot  was  this  fair  damsel  that  she  could 
step  from  one  foamy  crest  of  a  wave  to  the  foamy  crest  of 
another,  without  wetting  more  than  the  sole  of  her  sandal. 
She  had  grown  up  in  a  very  wild  way,  and  talked  much  about 
the  rights  of  women,  and  loved  hunting  and  war  far  better 
than  her  needle.  But,  in  my  opinion,  the  most  remarkable  of 
this  famous  company  were  two  sons  of  the  North  Wind  (airy 
youngsters,  and  of  rather  a  blustering  disposition),  Avho  had 
wings  on  their  shoulders,  and,  in  case  of  a  calm,  could  puff 
out  their  cheeks,  and  blow  almost  as  fresh  a  breeze  as  their 
father.  I  ought  not  to  forget  the  prophets  and  conjurers,  of 
whom  there  were  several  in  the  crew,  and  who  could  foretell 
what  would  happen  to-morrow,  or  the  next  day,  or  a  hundred 
years  hence,  but  were  generally  quite  unconscious  of  what  was 
passing  at  the  moment. 

Jason  appointed  Tiphys  to  be  helmsman,  because  he  was  a 
stargazer,  and  knew  the  points  of  the  compass.  Lynceus,  on 
<iccount  of  his  sharp  sight,  was  stationed  as  a  lookout  in  the 
prow,  Avhere  he  saw  a  whole  day's  sail  ahead,  but  was  rather 
apt  to  overlook  things  that  lay  directly  under  his  nose.  If 
the  sea  only  happened  to  be  deep  enough,  however,  Lynceus 
could  tell  you  exactly  what  kind  of  rocks  or  sands  were  at  the 
bottom  of  it ;  and  he  often  cried  out  to  his  companions,  that 
they  were  sailing  over  heaps  of  sunken  treasure,  which  yet  he 
was  none  the  richer  for  beholding.  To  confess  the  truth,  few 
people  believed  him  when  he  said  it. 

Well!  But  when  the  Argonauts,  as  these  fifty  brave 
adventurers  were  called,  had  prepared  everything  for  the 
voyage,  an  unforeseen  difficulty  threatened  to  end  it  before  it 
was  begun.  The  vessel,  you  must  understand,  was  so  long,  and 
broad,  and  ponderous,  that  the  united  force  of  all  the  fifty  was 
insufficient  to  shove  her  into  the  water.  Hercules,  I  suppose, 
had  not  grown  to  YAs  full  strength,  else  he  might  have  set 
her  afloat  as  easily  as  a  little  boy  launches  his  boat  upon  a 
puddle.  But  here  were  these  fifty  heroes  pushing,  and  strain- 
ing, and  growing  red  in  the  face,  without  making  the  Argo 


THE  GOLDEN  FLEECE.  389 

start  an  inch.  At  last,  quite  wearied  out,  they  sat  themselves 
down  on  the  shore,  exceedingly  disconsolate,  and  thinking 
that  the  vessel  must  be  left  to  rot  and  fall  in  pieces,  and  that 
they  must  either  swim  across  the  sea  or  lose  the  Golden  Fleece. 

All  at  once,  Jason  bethought  himself  of  the  galley's  miracu- 
lous figurehead. 

"O  daughter  of  the  Talking  Oak,"  cried  he,  "how  shall 
we  set  to  work  to  get  our  vessel  into  the  water?  " 

"  Seat  yourselves,"  answered  the  image  (for  it  had  known 
what  ought  to  be  done  from  the  very  first,  and  was  only  wait- 
ing for  the  question  to  be  put),  —  "  seat  yourselves,  and  handle 
your  oars,  and  let  Orpheus  play  upon  his  harp." 

Immediately  the  fifty  heroes  got  on  board,  and  seizing  their 
oars,  held  them  perpendicularly  in  the  air,  while  Orpheus 
(who  liked  such  a  task  far  better  than  rowing)  swept  his 
fingers  across  the  harp.  At  the  first  ringing  note  of  the 
music,  they  felt  the  vessel  stir.  Orpheus  thrummed  away 
briskly,  and  the  galley  slid  at  once  into  the  sea,  dipping  her 
prow  so  deeply  that  the  figurehead  drank  the  wave  with  its 
marvelous  lips,  and  rose  again  as  buoyant  as  a  swan.  The 
rowers  plied  their  fifty  oars  ;  the  white  foam  boiled  up  before 
the  prow ;  the  water  gurgled  and  bubbled  in  their  wake ; 
while  Orpheus  continued  to  play  so  lively  a  strain  of 
music,  that  the  vessel  seemed  to  dance  over  the  billows 
by  way  of  keeping  time  to  it.  Thus  triumphantly  did  the 
Argo  sail  out  of  the  harbor,  amidst  the  huzzas  and  good  wishes 
of  everybody  except  the  wicked  old  Pelias,  who  stood  on  a 
promontory  scowling  at  her,  and  wishing  that  he  could  blow 
out  of  his  lungs  the  tempest  of  wrath  that  was  in  his  heart,  and 
so  sink  the  galley  with  all  on  board.  When  they  had  sailed 
above  fifty  miles  over  the  sea,  Lynceus  happened  to  cast  his 
sharp  eyes  behind,  and  said  that  there  was  this  bad-hearted 
king,  still  perched  upon  the  promontory,  and  scowling  so 
gloomily  that  it  looked  like  a  black  thundercloud  in  that 
quarter  of  the  horizon. 

In  order  to  make  the  time  pass  away  more  pleasantly  dur- 
ing the  voyage,  the  heroes  talked  about  the  Golden  Fleece. 
It  originally  belonged,  it  appears,  to  a  Boeotian  ram,  who  had 
taken  on  his  back  two  children,  when  in  danger  of  their  lives, 
and  fled  with  them  over  land  and  sea,  as  far  as  Colchis.  One 
of  the  children,  whose  name  was  Helle,  fell  into  the  sea  and 
was  drowned.     But  the  other  (a  little  boy,  named  Phrixus) 


390  THE   GOLDEN  FLEECE. 

was  brought  safe  ashore  by  the  faithful  ram,  who,  however, 
was  so  exhausted  that  he  immediately  lay  down  and  died.  In 
memory  of  this  good  deed,  and  as  a  token  of  his  true  heart, 
the  fleece  of  the  poor  dead  ram  was  miraculously  changed  to 
gold,  and  became  one  of  the  most  beautiful  objects  ever  seen 
on  earth.  It  was  hung  upon  a  tree  in  a  sacred  grove,  where  it 
had  now  been  kept  I  know  not  how  many  years,  and  was  the 
envy  of  mighty  kings,  who  had  nothing  so  magnificent  in  any 
of  their  palaces. 

If  I  were  to  tell  you  all  the  adventures  of  the  Argonauts, 
it  would  take  me  till  nightfall,  and  perhaps  a  great  deal  longer. 
There  was  no  lack  of  wonderful  events,  as  you  may  judge  from 
what  you  may  have  already  heard.  At  a  certain  island  they 
were  hospitably  received  by  King  Cyzicus,  its  sovereign,  who 
made  a  feast  for  them,  and  treated  them  like  brothers.  But 
the  Argonauts  saw  that  this  good  king  looked  downcast  and 
very  much  troubled,  and  they  therefore  inquired  of  him  what 
was  the  matter.  King  Cyzicus  hereupon  informed  them  that 
he  and  his  subjects  were  greatly  abused  and  incommoded  by 
the  inhabitants  of  a  neighboring  mountain,  who  made  war 
upon  them,  and  killed  many  people,  and  ravaged  the  country. 
And  while  they  were  talking  about  it,  Cyzicus  pointed  to  the 
mountain,  and  asked  Jason  and  his  companions  what  they  saw 
there. 

"  I  see  some  very  tall  objects,"  answered  Jason  ;  "  but  they 
are  at  such  a  distance  that  I  cannot  distinctly  make  out  what 
they  are.  To  tell  your  Majesty  the  truth,  they  look  so  very 
strangely  that  I  am  inclined  to  think  them  clouds,  which  have 
chanced  to  take  something  like  human  shapes." 

"  I  see  them  very  plainly,"  remarked  Lynceus,  whose  eyes, 
you  know,  were  as  farsighted  as  a  telescope.  "  They  are  a 
band  of  enormous  giants,  all  of  whom  have  six  arms  apiece,  and 
a  club,  a  sword,  or  some  other  weapon  in  each  of  their  hands." 

"  You  have  excellent  eyes,"  said  King  Cyzicus.  "  Yes ;  they 
are  six-armed  giants,  as  you  say,  and  these  are  the  enemies 
whom  I  and  my  subjects  have  to  contend  with." 

The  next  day,  when  the  Argonauts  were  about  setting  sail, 
down  came  these  terrible  giants,  stepping  a  hundred  yards  at 
a  stride,  brandishing  their  six  arms  apiece,  and  looking  very 
formidable,  so  far  aloft  in  the  air.  Each  of  these  monsters 
was  able  to  carry  on  a  whole  war  by  himself,  for  with  one  of 
Ms  arms  he  could  fling  immense  stones,  and  wield  a  club  with 


THE  GOLDEN  FLEECE.  591 

another,  and  a  sword  with  a  third,  while  the  fourth  was  poking 
a  long  spear  at  the  enemy,  and  the  fifth  and  sixth  were  shoot- 
ing him  with  a  bow  and  arrow.  But,  luckily,  though  the 
giants  were  so  huge,  and  had  so  many  arms,  they  had  each  but 
one  heart,  and  that  no  bigger  nor  braver  than  the  heart  of  an 
ordinary  man.  Besides,  if  they  had  been  like  the  hundred- 
armed  Briareus,  the  brave  Argonauts  would  have  given  them 
their  hands  full  of  fight.  Jason  and  his  friends  went  boldly  to 
meet  them,  slew  a  great  many,  and  made  the  rest  take  to  their 
heels,  so  that,  if  the  giants  had  had  six  legs  apiece  instead  of 
six  arms,  it  would  have  served  them  better  to  run  away  with. 

Another  strange  adventure  happened  when  the  voyagers 
came  to  Thrace,  where  they  found  a  poor  blind  king,  named 
Phineus,  deserted  by  his  subjects,  and  living  in  a  very  sorrow- 
ful way,  all  by  himself.  On  Jason's  inquiring  whether  they 
could  do  him  any  service,  the  king  answered  that  he  was  terri- 
bly tormented  by  three  great  winged  creatures,  called  Harpies, 
which  had  the  faces  of  women,  and  the  wings,  bodies,  and  claws 
of  vultures.  These  ugly  wretches  were  in  the  habit  of  snatch- 
ing av/ay  his  dinner,  and  allowed  him  no  peace  of  his  life. 
Upon  hearing  this,  the  Argonauts  sj)read  a  plentiful  feast  on 
the  seashore,  well  knowing,  from  what  the  blind  king  said  of 
their  greediness,  that  the  Harpies  would  snuif  up  the  scent  of 
the  victuals,  and  quickly  come  to  steal  them  away.  And  so  it 
turned  out ;  for,  hardly  was  the  table  set,  before  the  three  hide- 
ous vulture  women  came  fla,pping  their  v/ings,  seized  the  food 
in  their  talons,  and  flew  off  as  fast  as  they  could.  But  the  two 
sons  of  the  North  Wind  drew  their  swords,  spread  their  pin- 
ions, and  set  off  through  the  air  in  pursuit  of  the  thieves,  whom 
they  at  last  overtook  among  some  islands,  after  a  chase  of  hun- 
dreds of  miles.  The  two  winged  youths  blustered  terribly  at 
the  Harpies  (for  they  had  the  rough  temper  of  their  father), 
and  so  frightened  them  with  their  drawn  swords,  that  they 
solemnly  promised  never  to  trouble  King  Phineus  again. 

Then  the  Argonauts  sailed  onward,  and  met  with  many 
other  marvelous  incidents  any  one  of  which  would  make  a 
story  by  itself.  At  one  time,  they  landed  on  an  island,  and 
were  reposing  on  the  grass,  when  they  suddenly  found  them- 
selves assailed  by  what  seemed  a  shower  of  steel-headed  arrows. 
Some  of  them  stuck  in  the  ground,  while  others  hit  against 
their  shields,  and  several  penetrated  their  tlesh.  The  fifty 
heroes  started  up,  and  looked  about  them  for  the  hidden  enemy, 


392  THE  GOLDEN  FLEECE. 

but  could  find  none,  nor  see  any  spot,  on  the  whole  island, 
where  even  a  single  archer  could  lie  concealed.  Still,  however, 
the  steel-headed  arrows  came  whizzing  among  them;  and,  at 
last,  liappening  to  look  upward,  they  beheld  a  large  flock  of 
birds,  hovering  and  wheeling  aloft,  and  shooting  their  feathers 
down  upon  the  Argonauts.  These  feathers  were  the  steel- 
headed  arrows  that  had  so  tormented  them.  There  was  no 
possibility  of  making  any  resistance ;  and  the  fifty  heroic 
Argonauts  might  all  have  been  killed  or  wounded  by  a  flock  of 
troublesome  birds,  without  ever  setting  eyes  on  the  Golden 
Fleece,  if  Jason  had  not  thought  of  asking  the  advice  of  tha 
oaken  image. 

So  he  ran  to  the  galley  as  fast  as  his  legs  would  carry  him. 

"O  daughter  of  the  Speaking  Oak,"  cried  he,  all  out  of 
breath,  "  we  need  your  wisdom  more  than  ever  before !  We 
are  in  great  peril  from  a  flock  of  birds,  who  are  shooting  us 
with  their  steel-pointed  feathers.  What  can  we  do  to  drive 
them  away  ?  " 

"  Make  a  clatter  on  your  shields,*'  said  the  image. 

On  receiving  this  excellent  counsel,  Jason  hurried  back  to 
his  companions  (who  v\'ere  far  more  dismayed  than  when  they 
fought  with  the  six-armed  giants),  and  bade  them  strike  with 
their  swords  upon  their  brazen  shields.  Forthwith  the  fifty 
heroes  set  heartily  to  work,  banging  with  might  and  main,  and 
raised  such  a  terrible  clatter  that  the  birds  made  what  haste 
they  could  to  get  away ;  and  though  they  had  shot  half  the 
feathers  out  of  their  wings,  they  were  soon  seen  skimming 
among  the  clouds,  a  long  distance  off,  and  looking  like  a  flock 
of  wild  geese.  Orpheus  celebrated  this  victory  by  playing  a 
triumphant  anthem  on  liis  harp,  and  sang  so  melodiously  that 
Jason  begged  him  to  desist,  lest,  as  the  steel-feathered  birds 
had  been  driven  away  by  an  ugly  sound,  they  might  be  enticed 
back  again  by  a  sweet  one. 

While  the  Argonauts  remained  on  this  island,  they  saw  a 
small  vessel  approaching  the  shore,  in  which  were  two  young 
men  of  princely  demeanor,  and  exceedingly  handsome,  as  young 
princes  generally  were  in  those  days.  Now,  who  do  you  imagine 
these  two  voyagers  turned  out  to  be  ?  Why,  if  you  will  be- 
lieve me,  they  were  the  sons  of  that  very  Phrixus,  who,  in  his 
childhood,  had  been  carried  to  Colchis  on  the  back  of  the 
golden-fleeced  ram.  Since  that  time,  Phrixus  had  married  the 
king's  daughter ;  and  the  two  young  princes  had  been  born  and 


THE  GOLDEN  FLEECE.  393 

brought  up  at  Colchis,  and  had  spent  their  playdays  in  the  out- 
skirts of  the  grove,  in  the  center  of  which  the  Golden  Fleece 
was  hanging  upon  a  tree.  They  were  now  on  their  way  to 
Greece,  in  hopes  of  getting  back  a  kingdom  that  had  been 
wrongfully  taken  from  their  father. 

When  the  princes  understood  whither  the  Argonauts  were 
going,  they  offered  to  turn  back  and  guide  them  to  Colchis. 
At  the  same  time,  however,  they  spoke  as  if  it  were  very  doubt- 
ful whether  Jason  would  succeed  in  getting  the  Golden  Fleece. 
According  to  their  account,  the  tree  on  which  it  hung  was 
guarded  by  a  terrible  dragon,  who  never  failed  to  devour,  at 
one  mouthful,  every  person  who  might  venture  within  his 
reach. 

"  There  are  other  difficulties  in  the  way,"  continued  the 
young  princes.  "But  is  not  this  enough?  Ah,  brave  Jason, 
turn  back  before  it  is  too  late.  It  would  grieve  us  to  the  heart, 
if  you  and  your  nine  and  forty  brave  companions  should  be 
eaten  up,  at  fifty  moutlifuls,  by  this  execrable  dragon." 

"  My  young  friends,"  quietly  replied  Jason,  '•  I  do  not 
wonder  that  you  think  the  dragon  very  terrible.  You  have 
grown  up  from  infancy  in  the  fear  of  this  monster,  and  therefore 
still  regard  him  with  the  awe  that  children  feel  for  the  bug- 
bears and  hobgoblins  which  their  nurses  have  talked  to  them 
about.  But,  in  my  view  of  the  matter,  the  dragon  is  merely  a 
pretty  large  serpent,  who  is  not  half  so  likely  to  snap  me  up  at 
one  mouthful  as  I  am  to  cut  off  his  ugly  head,  and  strip  the 
skin  from  his  body.  At  all  events,  turn  back  who  may,  I  will 
never  see  Greece  again  unless  I  carry  with  me  the  Golden 
Fleece." 

"  We  will  none  of  us  turn  back  !  "  cried  his  nine  and  forty 
brave  comrades.  "Let  us  get  on  board  the  galley  this  instant: 
and  if  the  dragon  is  to  make  a  breakfast  of  us,  much  good  may- 
it  do  him." 

And  Orpheus  (v/hose  custom  it  was  to  set  everything  to 
music)  began  to  harp  and  sing  most  gloriously,  and  made  every 
mother's  son  of  them  feel  as  if  nothing  in  this  world  were  so 
delectable  as  to  fight  dragons,  and  nothing  so  truly  honorable 
as  to  be  eaten  up  at  one  mouthful,  in  case  of  the  worst. 

After  this  (being  now  under  the  guidance  of  the  two 
princes,  who  were  well  acquainted  with  the  way),  they  quickly 
sailed  to  Colchis.  When  the  king  of  the  country,  whose  name 
v/as  ^etes,  heard  of  their  arrival,  he  instantly  summoned  Jasoa 


394  THE  GOLDEN  FLEECE. 

to  court.  The  king  was  a  stern  and  cruel-looking  potentate  ; 
and  though  he  put  on  as  polite  and  hospitable  an  expression  as 
he  could,  Jason  did  not  like  his  face  a  whit  better  than  that  of 
the  wicked  King  Pelias,  who  dethroned  his  father. 

"  You  are  welcome,  brave  Jason,"  said  King  ^etes.  "Pray, 
are  you  on  a  pleasure  voyage  ?  —  or  do  you  meditate  the  dis- 
covery of  unknown  islands? — or  what  other  cause  has  procured 
me  the  happiness  of  seeing  you  at  my  court  ?  " 

"Great  sir,"  replied  Jason,  with  an  obeisance,  —  for  Chiron 
had  taught  him  how  to  behave  with  propriety,  whether  to  kings 
or  beggars,  —  "I  have  come  hither  with  a  purpose  which  I  now 
beg  your  Majesty's  permission  to  execute.  King  Pelias,  who 
sits  on  my  father's  throne  (to  which  he  has  no  more  right  than 
to  the  one  on  which  your  excellent  Majesty  is  now  seated),  has 
engaged  to  come  down  from  it,  and  to  give  me  his  crown  and 
scepter,  provided  I  bring  him  the  Golden  Fleece.  This,  as  your 
Majesty  is  aware,  is  now  hanging  on  a  tree  here  at  Colchis  ; 
and  I  humbly  solicit  j'Our  gracious  leave  to  take  it  away." 

In  spite  of  himself,  the  king's  face  twisted  itself  into  an 
angry  frown ;  for,  above  all  things  else  in  the  world,  he  prized 
the  Golden  Fleece,  and  was  even  suspected  of  having  done  a 
very  wicked  act,  in  order  to  get  it  into  his  own  possession. 
It  put  him  into  the  worst  possible  humor,  therefore,  to  hear 
that  the  gallant  Prince  Jason,  and  forty-nine  of  the  bravest 
young  warriors  of  Greece,  had  come  to  Colchis  with  the  sole 
purpose  of  taking  away  his  chief  treasure. 

"Do  you  know,"  asked  King  ^etes,  eying  Jason  very 
sternly,  "  what  are  the  conditions  which  you  must  fulfill  before 
getting  possession  of  the  Golden  Fleece  ?  " 

"I  have  heard,"  rejoined  the  youth,  "that  a  dragon  lies 
beneath  the  tree  on  which  the  prize  hangs,  and  that  whoever 
approaches  him  runs  the  risk  of  being  devoured  at  a  mouth- 
ful." 

"  True,"  said  the  king,  with  a  smile  that  did  not  look  par- 
ticularly good-natured.  "  Very  true,  young  man.  But  there 
are  other  things  as  hard,  or  perhaps  a  little  harder,  to  be  done, 
before  you  can  even  have  the  privilege  of  being  devoured  by 
the  dragon.  For  example,  you  must  first  tame  my  two  brazen- 
footed  and  brazen-lunged  bulls,  which  Vulcan,  the  wonderful 
.  blacksmith,  made  for  me.  There  is  a  furnace  in  each  of  their 
stomachs ;  and  they  breathe  such  hot  fire  out  of  their  mouths 
and  nostrils,  that  nobody  has  hitherto  gone  nigh  them  without 


MEDEA 

From  a  valntiny  by  N.  Sichel 


THE  GOLDEN  FLEECE.  395 

being  instantly  burned  to  a  small,  black  cinder.     What  do  you 
think  of  this,  my  brave  Jason  ?  " 

"  I  must  encounter  the  peril,"  answered  Jason,  composedly, 
"since  it  stands  in  the  way  of  my  purpose." 

"  After  taming  the  fiery  bulls,"  continued  King  ^etes,  who 
was  determined  to  scare  Jason  if  possible,  "you  must  yoke 
them  to  a  plow,  and  must  plow  the  sacred  earth  in  the 
grove  of  Mars,  and  sow  some  of  the  same  dragon's  teeth  from 
which  Cadmus  raised  a  crop  of  armed  men.  They  are  an 
unruly  set  of  reprobates,  those  sons  of  the  dragon's  teeth  ;  and 
unless  you  treat  them  suitably,  they  will  fall  upon  you  sword 
in  hand.  You  and  your  nine  and  forty  Argonauts,  my  bold 
Jason,  are  hardly  numerous  or  strong  enough  to  fight  with 
such  a  host  as  will  spring  up." 

"  My  master  Chiron,"  replied  Jason,  "  taught  me,  long  ago, 
the  story  of  Cadmus.  Perhaps  I  can  manage  the  quarrelsome 
sons  of  the  dragon's  teeth  as  well  as  Cadmus  did." 

"I  wish  the  dragon  had  him,"  muttered  King  ^etes  to 
himself,  "and  the  four-footed  pedant,  his  schoolmaster,  into 
the  bargain.  Why,  what  a  foolhardy,  self -conceited  coxcomb 
he  is  !  We'll  see  what  my  fire-breathing  bulls  will  do  for  him. 
Well,  Prince  Jason,"  he  continued,  aloud,  and  as  complaisantly 
as  he  could,  "make  yourself  comfortable  for  to-day,  and  to- 
morrow morning,  since  you  insist  upon  it,  you  shall  try  your 
skill  at  the  plow." 

While  the  king  talked  with  Jason,  a  beautiful  young 
woman  was  standing  behind  the  throne.  She  fixed  her  eyes 
earnestly  upon  the  youthful  stranger,  and  listened  attentively 
to  every  word  that  was  spoken  ;  and  when  Jason  withdrew 
from  the  king's  presence,  this  young  woman  followed  him  out 
of  the  room. 

"I  am  the  king's  daughter,"  she  said  to  him,  "and  my 
name  is  Medea.  I  know  a  great  deal  of  which  other  young 
princesses  are  ignorant,  and  can  do  many  things  which  they 
would  be  afraid  so  much  as  to  dream  of.  If  you  will  trust 
to  me,  I  can  instruct  you  how  to  tame  the  fiery  bulls,  and 
sow  the  dragon's  teeth,  and  get  the  Golden  Fleece." 

"  Indeed,  beautiful  princess,"  answered  Jason,  "  if  you  will 
do  me  this  service,  I  promise  to  be  grateful  to  you  my  whole 
life  long." 

Gazing  at  Medea,  he  beheld  a  wonderful  intelligence  in 
her  face.     She  was  one  of  those  persons  whose  eyes  are  full 


896  THE  GOLDEN  FLEECE. 

of  mystery ;  so  that,  while  looking  into  them,  you  seem  to  see 
a  very  great  way,  as  into  a  deep  well,  yet  can  never  be  certain 
whether  you  see  into  the  farthest  depths,  or  whether  there  be 
not  something  else  hidden  at  the  bottom.  If  Jason  had  been 
capable  of  fearing  anything,  he  would  have  been  afraid  of 
making  this  young  princess  his  enemy;  for,  beautiful  as  she 
now  looked,  she  might,  the  very  next  instant,  become  as  ter- 
rible as  the  dragon  that  kept  watch  over  the  Golden  Fleece. 

"  Princess,"  he  exclaimed,  "  you  seem  indeed  very  wise  and 
very  powerful.  But  how  can  you  help  me  to  do  the  things 
of  which  you  speak  ?     Are  you  an  enchantress  ?  " 

"Yes,  Prince  Jason,"  answered  Medea,  with  a  smile,  "you 
have  hit  upon  the  truth.  I  am  an  enchantress.  Circe,  my 
father's  sister,  taught  me  to  be  one,  and  I  could  tell  you,  if  I 
pleased,  who  was  the  old  woman  with  the  peacock,  the  pome- 
granate, and  the  cuckoo  staff,  whom  you  carried  over  the 
river  ;  and,  likewise,  who  it  is  that  speaks  through  the  lips 
of  the  oaken  image,  that  stands  in  the  prow  of  your  galley. 
I  am  acquainted  with  some  of  your  secrets,  you  perceive.  It 
is  well  for  you  that  I  am  favorably  inclined ;  for,  otherwise, 
you  would  hardly  escape  being  snapped  up   by  the  dragon." 

"  I  should  not  so  much  care  for  the  dragon,"  replied  Jason, 
"if  I  only  knew  how  to  manage  the  brazen-footed  and  fiery- 
lunged  bulls." 

"  If  you  are  as  brave  as  I  think  you,  and  as  you  have  need 
to  be,"  said  Medea,  "  3^our  own  bold  heart  will  teach  you  that 
there  is  but  one  way  of  dealing  with  a  mad  bull.  AVhat  it  is 
I  leave  you  to  find  out  in  the  moment  of  peril.  As  for  the 
fiery  breath  of  these  animals,  I  have  a  charmed  ointment  here, 
which  will  prevent  you  from  being  burned  up,  and  cure  you 
if  you  chance  to  be  a  little  scorched." 

So  she  put  a  golden  box  into  his  hand,  and  directed  him 
how  to  apply  the  perfumed  unguent  which  it  contained,  and 
where  to  meet  her  at  midnight. 

"  Only  be  brave,"  added  she,  "  and  before  daybreak  the 
brazen  bulls  shall  be  tamed." 

The  young  man  assured  her  that  his  heart  would  not  fail 
him.  He  then  rejoined  his  comrades,  and  told  them  wdiat 
had  passed  between  the  princess  and  himself,  and  warned 
them  to  be  in  readiness  in  case  there  might  be  need  of  their 
help. 

At  the  appointed  hour  he  met  the  beautiful  Medea  on  the 


THE   GOLDEN  FLEECE.  397 

marble  steps  of  the  king's  palace.  She  gave  him  a  basket,  in 
which  were  the  dragon's  teeth,  just  as  they  had  been  pulled 
out  of  the  monster's  jaws  by  Cadmus,  long  ago.  Medea  then 
led  Jason  down  the  palace  steps,  and  through  the  silent  streets 
of  the  city,  and  into  the  royal  pasture  ground,  where  the  two 
brazen-footed  bulls  were  kept.  It  was  a  starry  night,  with  a 
bright  gleam  along  the  eastern  edge  of  the  sky,  where  tha 
moon  was  soon  going  to  show  herself.  After  entering  the 
pasture,  the  princess  paused  and  looked  around. 

"  There  they  are,"  said  she,  "  reposing  themselves  and  chew- 
ing their  fiery  cuds  in  that  farthest  corner  of  the  field.  It  will  be 
excellent  sport,  I  assure  you,  when  they  catch  a  glimpse  of  your 
figure.  INIy  father  and  all  his  court  delight  in  nothing  so  much 
as  to  see  a  stranger  trying  to  yoke  them,  in  order  to  come  at 
the  Golden  Fleece.  It  makes  a  holiday  in  Colchis  whenever 
such  a  thing  happens.  For  my  part,  I  enjoy  it  immensely. 
You  cannot  imagine  in  what  a  mere  twinkling  of  an  eye  their 
hot  breath  shrivels  a  young  man  into  a  black  cinder." 

"Are  you  sure,  beautiful  Medea,"  asked  Jason,  "quite  sure, 
that  the  unguent  in  the  gold  box  will  prove  a  remedy  against 
those  terrible  burns  ?  " 

"If  you  doubt,  if  you  are  in  the  least  afraid,"  said  the 
princess,  looking  him  in  the  face  by  the  dim  starlight,  "  you 
had  better  never  have  been  born  than  go  a  step  niglier  to  the 
bulls." 

But  Jason  had  set  his  heart  steadfastly  on  getting  the 
Golden  Fleece  ;  and  I  positively  doubt  whether  he  would  have 
gone  back  without  it,  even  had  he  been  certain  of  finding  him- 
self turned  into  a  red-hot  cinder,  or  a  handful  of  white  ashes, 
the  instant  he  made  a  step  farther.  He  therefore  let  go  Medea's 
hand,  and  walked  boldly  forward  in  the  direction  whither  she 
had  pointed.  At  some  distance  before  him  he  perceived  four 
streams  of  fiery  vapor,  regularly  appearing,  and  again  vanish- 
ing, after  dimly  lighting  up  the  surrounding  obscurity.  These, 
you  will  understand,  were  caused  by  the  breath  of  the  brazen 
bulls,  which  was  quietly  stealing  out  of  their  four  nostrils,  as 
they  lay  chewing  their  cuds. 

At  the  first  two  or  three  steps  which  Jason  made,  the  four 
fiery  streams  appeared  to  gush  out  somewhat  more  plentifully  ; 
for  the  two  brazen  bulls  had  heard  his  foot  tramp,  and  were  lift- 
ing up  their  hot  noses  to  snuff  the  air.  He  went  a  little  farther, 
and  by  the  way  in  which  the  red  vapor  now  spouted  forth,  he 


398  THE  GOLDEN  FLEECE. 

judged  that  the  creatures  had  got  upon  their  feet.  Now  he 
could  see  glowing  sparks,  and  vivid  jets  of  flame.  At  the  next 
step,  each  of  the  bulls  made  the  pasture  echo  with  a  terrible 
roar,  while  the  burning  breath,  which  they  thus  belched  forth, 
lit  up  the  whole  field  with  a  momentary  flash.  One  other 
stride  did  bold  Jason  make ;  and,  suddenly,  as  a  streak  of  light- 
ning, on  came  these  fiery  animals,  roaring  like  thunder,  and 
sending  out  sheets  of  white  flame,  which  so  kindled  up  the 
scene  that  the  young  man  could  discern  every  object  more  dis- 
tinctly than  by  daylight.  Most  distinctly  of  all  he  saw  the  two 
horrible  creatures  galloping  right  down  upon  him,  their  brazen 
hoofs  rattling  and  ringing  over  the  ground,  and  their  tails 
sticking  up  stiffly  into  the  air,  as  has  always  been  the  fashion 
with  angry  bulls.  Their  breath  scorched  the  herbage  before 
them.  So  intensely  hot  it  was,  indeed,  that  it  caught  a  dry 
tree,  under  which  Jason  was  now  standing,  and  set  it  all  in  a 
light  blaze.  But  as  for  Jason  himself  (thanks  to  Medea's  en- 
chanted ointment),  the  white  flame  curled  around  his  body, 
without  injuring  him  a  jot  more  than  if  he  had  been  made  of 
asbestos. 

Greatly  encouraged  at  finding  himself  not  yet  turned  into  a 
cinder,  the  young  man  awaited  the  attack  of  the  bulls.  Just 
as  the  brazen  brutes  fancied  themselves  sure  of  tossing  him 
into  the  air,  he  caught  one  of  them  by  the  horn,  and  the  other 
by  his  screwed-up  tail,  and  held  them  in  a  gripe  like  that  of  an 
iron  vice,  one  with  his  right  hand,  the  other  with  his  left. 
Well,  he  must  have  been  wonderfully  strong  in  his  arms,  to  be 
sure.  But  the  secret  of  the  matter  was,  that  the  brazen  bulls 
were  enchanted  creatures,  and  that  Jason  had  broken  the  spell 
of  their  fiery  fierceness  by  his  bold  way  of  handling  them. 
And,  ever  since  that  time,  it  has  been  the  favorite  method  of 
brave  men,  when  danger  assails  them,  to  do  what  they  ca,ll 
"taking  the  bull  by  the  horns ";  and  to  gripe  him  by  the  tail  is 
pretty  much  the  same  thing,  —  that  is,  to  throw  aside  fear,  and 
overcome  the  peril  by  despising  it. 

It  was  now  easy  to  yoke  the  bulls,  and  to  harness  them  to 
the  plow,  which  had  lain  rusting  on  the  ground  for  a  great 
many  years  gone  by;  so  long  was  it  before  anybody  could  be 
found  capable  of  plowing  that  piece  of  land.  Jason,  I  sup- 
pose, had  been  taught  how  to  draw  a  furrow  by  the  good  old 
Chiron,  who,  perhaps,  used  to  allow  himself  to  be  harnessed  to 
the  plow.     At  any  rate,  our  hero  succeeded  perfectly  well  in 


THE  GOLDEN  FLEECE.  399 

breaking  up  the  greensward ;  and,  by  the  time  that  the  moon 
was  a  quarter  of  her  journey  up  the  sky,  the  plowed  field  lay 
before  him,  a  large  tract  of  black  earth,  ready  to  be  sown  with 
the  dragon's  teeth.  So  Jason  scattered  them  broadcast,  and 
harrowed  them  into  the  soil  with  a  brush  harrow,  and  took  his 
stand  on  the  edge  of  the  field,  anxious  to  see  what  would  hap- 
pen next. 

"  Must  we  wait  long  for  harvest  time  ?  "  he  inquired  of 
Medea,  who  was  now  standing  by  his  side. 

"  Whether  sooner  or  later,  it  will  be  sure  to  come,"  an- 
swered the  princess.  "A  crop  of  armed  men  never  fails  to 
spring  up,  when  the  dragon's  teeth  have  been  sown." 

The  moon  was  now  high  aloft  in  the  heavens,  and  threw  its 
bright  beams  over  the  plowed  field,  where  as  yet  there  was 
nothing  to  be  seen.  Any  farmer,  on  viewing  it,  would  have 
said  that  Jason  must  wait  weeks  before  the  green  blades  would 
peep  from  among  the  clods,  and  whole  months  before  the  yellow 
grain  would  be  ripened  for  the  sickle.  But  by  and  by,  all  over 
the  field,  there  was  something  that  glistened  in  the  moonbeams, 
like  sparkling  drops  of  dew.  These  bright  objects  sprouted 
higher,  and  proved  to  be  the  steel  heads  of  spears.  Then  there 
was  a  dazzling  gleam  from  a  vast  number  of  polished  brass 
helmets,  beneath  which,  as  they  grew  farther  out  of  the  soil, 
appeared  the  dark  and  bearded  visages  of  warriors,  struggling 
to  free  themselves  from  the  imprisoning  earth.  The  first  look 
that  they  gave  at  the  upper  world  was  a  glare  of  wrath  and 
defiance.  Next  were  seen  their  bright  breastplates ;  in  every 
right  hand  there  was  a  sword  or  a  si)ear,  and  on  each  left  arm 
a  shield  ;  and  when  this  strange  crop  of  warriors  had  but  half 
grown  out  of  the  earth,  they  struggled,  —  such  was  their  im- 
patience of  restraint,  —  and,  as  it  were,  tore  themselves  up  by 
the  roots.  Wherever  a  dragon's  tooth  had  fallen,  there  stood  a 
man  armed  for  battle.  They  made  a  clangor  with  their  swords 
against  their  shields,  and  eyed  one  another  fiercely;  for  they 
had  come  into  this  beautiful  world,  and  into  the  peaceful  moon- 
light, full  of  rage  and  stormy  passions,  and  ready  to  take  the 
life  of  every  human  brother,  in  recompense  of  the  boon  of  their 
own  existence. 

There  have  been  many  other  armies  in  the  world  that  seemed 
to  possess  the  same  fierce  nature  with  the  one  which  had  now 
sprouted  from  the  dragon's  teeth  ;  but  these,  in  the  moonlit 
field,  were  the  more  excusable,  because  they  never  had  women 


400  THE  GOLDEN  FLEECE.  • 

for  their  mothers.  And  how  it  would  have  rejoiced  any  great 
captain,  who  was  bent  on  conquering  the  world,  like  Alexander 
or  Napoleon,  to  raise  a  crop  of  armed  soldiers  as  easily  as  Jason 
did! 

For  a  while,  the  warriors  stood  flourishing  their  weapons, 
clashing  their  swords  against  their  shields,  and  boiling  over 
with  the  red-hot  thirst  for  battle.  Then  they  began  to  shout, 
"  Show  us  the  enemy  !  Lead  us  to  the  charge  !  Death  or  vic- 
tory !  Come  on,  brave  comrades  !  Conquer  or  die  !  "  and  a 
hundred  other  outcries,  such  as  men  always  bellow  forth  on  a 
battlefield,  and  which  these  dragon  people  seemed  to  have  at 
their  tongues'  ends.  At  last,  the  front  rank  caught  sight  of 
Jason,  who,  beholding  the  flash  of  so  many  weapons  in  the  moon- 
light, had  thought  it  best  to  draw  his  sword.  In  a  moment  all 
the  sons  of  the  dragon's  teeth  appeared  to  take  Jason  for  an 
enemy ;  and  crying  with  one  voice,  "  Guard  the  Golden 
Fleece  !  "  they  ran  at  him  with  uplifted  swords  and  protruded 
spears.  Jason  knew  that  it  would  be  impossible  to  withstand 
this  bloodthirsty  battalion  with  his  single  arm,  but  determined, 
since  there  was  nothing  better  to  be  done,  to  die  as  valiantly  as 
if  he  himself  had  sprung  from  a  dragon's  tooth. 

Medea,  however,  bade  him  snatch  up  a  stone  from  the 
ground. 

"  Throw  it  among  them  quickly  !  "  cried  she.  "  It  is  the 
only  way  to  save  yourself." 

The  armed  men  were  now  so  nigh  that  Jason  could  discern 
the  fire  flashing  out  of  their  enraged  eyes,  when  he  let  fly  the 
stone,  and  saw  it  strike  the  helmet  of  a  tall  warrior,  who  was 
rushing  upon  him  with  his  blade  aloft.  The  stone  glanced  from 
this  man's  helmet  to  the  shield  of  his  nearest  comrade,  and 
thence  flew  right  into  the  angry  face  of  another,  hitting  him 
smartly  between  the  eyes.  Each  of  the  three  who  had  been 
struck  by  the  stone  took  it  for  granted  that  his  next  neighbor 
had  given  him  a  blow  ;  and  instead  of  running  any  farther 
towards  Jason,  they  began  a  fight  among  themselves.  The 
confusion  spread  through  the  host,  so  that  it  seemed  scarcely  a 
moment  before  they  were  all  hacking,  hewing,  and  stabbing  at 
one  another,  lopping  off  arms,  heads,  and  legs,  and  doing  such 
memorable  deeds  that  Jason  was  filled  with  immense  admira- 
tion ;  although,  at  the  same  time,  he  could  not  help  laughing 
to  behold  these  mighty  men  punishing  each  other  for  an  offense 
which  he  himself  had  committed.     In  an  incredibly  short  space 


THE   GOLDEN  FLEECE.  401 

of  time  (almost  as  short,  indeed,  as  it  had  taken  them  to  grow 
up),  all  but  one  of  the  heroes  of  the  dragon's  teeth  were 
stretched  lifeless  on  the  field.  The  last  survivor,  the  bravest 
and  strongest  of  the  whole,  had  just  force  enough  to  wave  his 
crimson  sword  over  his  head,  and  give  a  shout  of  exultation, 
crying,  "Victory  !  Victory  !  Immortal  fame  !  "  when  he  him- 
self fell  down,  and  lay  quietly  among  his  slain  brethren. 

And  there  was  the  end  of  the  army  that  had  sprouted  from 
the  dragon's  teeth.  That  fierce  and  feverish  fight  was  the  only 
enjoyment  which  they  had  tasted  on  this  beautiful  earth. 

"  Let  them  sleep  in  the  bed  of  honor,"  said  the  Princess 
Medea,  with  a  sly  smile  at  Jason.  "The  world  will  always 
have  simpletons  enough,  just  like  them,  fighting  and  dying  for 
they  know  not  what,  and  fancying  that  posterity  will  take  the 
trouble  to  put  laurel  wreaths  on  their  rusty  and  battered  hel- 
mets. Could  you  help  smiling,  Prince  Jason,  to  see  the  self- 
conceit  of  that  last  fellow,  just  as  he  tumbled  down  ?  " 

"  It  made  me  very  sad,"  answered  Jason,  gravel}'.  "  And, 
to  tell  you  the  truth,  princess,  the  Golden  Fleece  does  not 
appear  so  well  worth  the  winning,  after  what  I  have  here 
beheld." 

"  You  will  think  differently  in  the  morning,"  said  Medea, 
"  True,  the  Golden  Fleece  may  not  be  so  valuable  as  you  have- 
thought  it ;  but  then  there  is  nothing  better  in  the  world  ;  and  one- 
must  needs  have  an  object,  you  know.  Come  !  Your  night's 
work  has  been  well  performed ;  and  to-morrow  you  can  inform 
King^Eetes  that  the  first  part  of  your  allotted  task  is  fulfilled." 

Agreeably  to  Medea's  advice,  Jason  went  betimes  in  the 
morning  to  the  palace  of  King  ^Eetes.  Entering  the  presence 
chamber,  he  stood  at  the  foot  of  the  throne,  and  made  a  low 
obeisance. 

"  Your  eyes  look  heavy,  Prince  Jason,"  observed  the  king ; 
"  you  appear  to  have  spent  a  sleepless  night.  I  hope  you  have 
been  considering  the  matter  a  little  more  wisely,  and  have  con- 
cluded not  to  get  yourself  scorched  to  a  cinder,  in  attempting 
to  tame  my  brazen-lunged  bulls." 

"That  is  already  accomplished,  may  it  please  your  Maj- 
esty," replied  Jason.  "The  bulls  have  been  tamed  and  yoked ; 
the  field  has  been  plowed ;  the  dragon's  teeth  have  been  sown 
broadcast,  and  harrowed  into  the  soil ;  the  crop  of  armed  war- 
riors has  sprung  up,  and  they  have  slain  one  another,  to  the 
last  man.     And  now  I  solicit  your   Majesty's  permission  to 

26 


402  THE  GOLDEN  FLEECE 

encounter  the  dragon,  that  I  may  take  do-^^n  the  Golden  Fleece 
from  the  tree,  and  depart,  with  my  nine  and  forty  comrades." 

King  iEetes  scowled,  and  looked  very  angry  and  excessively 
disturbed;  for  he  knew  that,  in  accordance  with  his  kingly 
promise,  he  ought  now  to  permit  Jason  to  win  the  fleece,  if  his 
courage  and  skill  should  enable  him  to  do  so.  But,  since  the 
young  man  had  met  with  such  good  luck  in  the  matter  of  the 
brazen  bulls  and  the  dragon's  teeth,  the  king  feared  that  he 
would  be  equally  successful  in  slaying  the  dragon.  And  there- 
fore, though  he  would  gladly  have  seen  Jason  snapped  up  at 
a  mouthful,  he  was  resolved  (and  it  was  a  very  wrong  thing  of 
this  wicked  potentate)  not  to  run  any  further  risk  of  losing  his 
beloved  fleece. 

"  You  never  would  have  succeeded  in  this  business,  young 
man,"  said  he,  "if  my  undutiful  daughter  Medea  had  not 
helped  you  with  her  enchantments.  Had  you  acted  fairly,  you 
would  have  been,  at  this  instant,  a  black  cinder,  or  a  handful  of 
white  ashes.  I  forbid  you,  on  pain  of  death,  to  make  any  more 
attempts  to  get  the  Golden  Fleece.  To  speak  my  mind  plainly, 
you  shall  never  set  eyes  on  so  much  as  one  of  its  glistening 

locks." 

Jason  left  the  king's  presence  in  great  sorrow  and  anger. 
He  could  think  of  nothing  better  to  be  done  than  to  summon 
together  his  forty -nine  brave  Argonauts,  march  at  once  to  the 
grove  of  Mars,  slay  the  dragon,  take  possession  of  the  Golden 
Fleece,  get  on  board  the  Argo,  and  spread  all  sail  for  lolchos. 
The  success  of  the  scheme  depended,  it  is  true,  on  the  doubtful 
point  whether  all  the  fifty  heroes  might  not  be  snapped  up,  at 
so  many  mouthfuls,  by  the  dragon.  But,  as  Jason  was  hasten- 
ing down  the  palace  steps,  the  Princess  Medea  called  after  him, 
and  beckoned  him  to  return.  Her  black  eyes  shone  upon 
him  with  such  a  keen  intelligence,  that  he  felt  as  if  there  were 
a  serpent  peeping  out  of  them;  and  although  she  had  done  him 
so  much  service  only  the  night  before,  he  was  by  no  means  very 
certain  that  she  would  not  do  him  an  equally  great  mischief 
before  sunset.  These  enchantresses,  you  must  know,  are  never 
to  be  depended  upon. 

"  What  says  King  ^etes,  my  royal  and  upright  father  ? 
inquired   Medea,  slightly  smiling.     "Will   he   give   you   the 
Golden  Fleece,  without  any  further  risk  or  trouble  ?  " 

"  On  the  contrary,"  answered  Jason,  "  he  is  very  angry  with 
me  for  taming  the  brazen  bulls  and  sowing  the  dragon's  teeth. 


THE   GOLDEN  FLEECE.  403 

And  he  forbids  me  to  make  any  more  attempts,  and  positivel;^ 
refuses  to  give  up  the  Golden  Fleece,  whether  I  slay  the  dragon 
or  no." 

"  Yes,  Jason,"  said  the  princess,  "  and  I  can  tell  you  more. 
Unless  you  set  sail  from  Colchis  before  to-morrow's  sunrise, 
the  king  means  to  burn  your  fifty-oared  galley,  and  put  your- 
self and  your  forty-nine  brave  comrades  to  the  sword.  But  be 
of  good  courage.  The  Golden  Fleece  you  shall  have,  if  it  lies 
within  the  power  of  my  enchantments  to  get  it  for  you.  Wait 
for  me  here  an  hour  before  midnight." 

At  the  appointed  hour,  you  might  again  have  seen  Prince 
Jason  and  the  Princess  ^ledea,  side  by  side,  stealing  through 
the  streets  of  Colchis,  on  their  way  to  the  sacred  grove,  in  the 
center  of  which  the  Golden  Fleece  was  suspended  to  a  tree. 
While  they  were  crossing  the  pasture  ground,  the  brazen  bulls 
came  towards  Jason,  lowing,  nodding  their  heads,  and  thrust- 
ing forth  their  snouts,  which,  as  other  cattle  do,  they  loved  to 
have  rubbed  and  caressed  by  a  friendly  hand.  Their  fierce 
nature  was  thoroughly  tamed ;  and,  with  their  fierceness,  the 
two  furnaces  in  tLeir  stomachs  had  likewise  been  extinguished, 
insomuch  that  they  probably  enjoyed  far  more  comfort  in  graz- 
ing and  chewing  their  cuds;  than  ever  before.  Indeed,  it  had 
heretofore  been  a  great  inconvenience  to  these  poor  animals, 
that,  whenever  they  wished  to  eat  a  mouthful  of  grass,  the  fire 
out  of  their  nostrils  had  shriveled  it  up,  before  they  could 
manage  to  crop  it.  How  they  contrived  to  keep  themselves 
alive  is  more  than  I  can  imagine.  But  now,  instead  of  emit- 
ting jets  of  flame  and  streams  of  sulphurous  vapor,  they  breathed 
the  very  sweetest  of  cow  breath. 

After  kindly  patting  the  bulls,  Jason  followed  Medea's  guid- 
ance into  the  grove  of  Mars,  where  the  great  oak  trees,  that  had 
been  growing  for  centuries,  threw  so  thick  a  shade  that  the 
moonbeams  struggled  vainly  to  find  their  way  through  it. 
Only  here  and  there  a  glimmer  fell  upon  the  leaf-strewn  earth, 
or  now  and  then  a  breeze  stirred  the  boughs  aside,  and  gave 
Jason  a  glimpse  of  the  sky,  lest,  in  that  deep  obscurity,  he  might 
forget  that  there  was  one,  overhead.  At  length,  when  they  had 
gone  farther  and  farther  into  the  heart  of  the  duskiness,  Medea 
squeezed  Jason's  hand. 

"  Look  yonder,"  she  whispered.     " Do  you  see  it  ?  " 

Gleaming  among  the  venerable  oaks,  there  was  a  radiance, 
not  like  the  moonbeams,  but  rather  resembling  the  golden  glory 


404  "         THE  GOLDEN  FLEECE. 

of  the  setting  sun.  It  proceeded  from  an  object,  which  appeared 
to  be  suspended  at  about  a  man's  height  from  the  ground,  a 
little  farther  within  the  wood. 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  asked  Jason. 

"  Have  you  come  so  far  to  seek  it,"  exclaimed  Medea,  "  and 
do  you  not  recognize  the  meed  of  all  your  toils  and  perils,  when 
it  glitters  before  your  eyes?     It  is  the  Golden  Fleece." 

Jason  went  onward  a  few  steps  farther,  and  then  stopped  to 
gaze.  Oh,  how  beautiful  it  looked,  shining  with  a  marvelous 
light  of  its  own,  that  inestimable  prize,  which  so  many  heroes 
had  longed  to  behold,  but  had  perished  in  the  quest  of  it,  either 
by  the  perils  of  their  voyage,  or  by  the  fiery  breath  of  the  brazen- 
lunged  bulls. 

"  How  gloriously  it  shines!  " cried  Jason,  in  a  rapture.  "  It 
has  surely  been  dij^ped  in  the  richest  gold  of  sunset.  Let  me 
hasten  onward,  and  take  it  to  my  bosom." 

"  Stay,"  said  Medea,  holding  him  back.  "  Have  you  for- 
gotten what  guards  it  ?  " 

To  say  the  truth,  in  the  joy  of  beholding  the  object  of  his 
desires,  the  terrible  dragon  had  quite  slipped  out  of  Jason's 
memor}^  Soon,  however,  something  came  to  pass  that  re- 
minded him  what  perils  were  still  to  be  encountered.  An 
antelope,  that  probably  mistook  the  yellow  radiance  for  sunrise, 
came  bounding  fleetly  througli  the  grove.  He  was  rushing 
straight  towards  the  Golden  Fleece,  when  suddenly  there  was 
a  frightful  hiss,  and  the  immense  head  and  half  the  scaly  body 
of  the  dragon  was  thrust  forth  (for  he  was  twisted  round  the 
trunk  of  the  tree  on  which  the  fleece  hung),  and  seizing  the 
poor  antelope,  sv/alloY/ed  him  with  one  snap  of  his  jaws. 

After  this  feat,  the  dragon  seemed  sensible  that  some  other 
living  creature  was  Mdthin  reach,  on  which  he  felt  inclined  to 
finish  his  meal.  In  various  directions  he  kept  poking  his  ugly 
snout  among  the  trees,  stretching  out  his  neck  a  terrible  long 
way,  now  here,  now  there,  and  now  close  to  the  spot  where  Jason 
and  the  princess  were  hiding  behind  an  oak.  Upon  ni}^  word, 
as  the  head  came  waving  and  undulating  through  the  air,  and 
reaching  almost  within  arm's  length  of  Prince  Jason,  it  was 
a  very  hideous  and  uncomfortable  sight.  The  gape  of  his 
enormous  jaws  was  nearly  as  wide  as  the  gateway  of  the 
king's  palace. 

"  Well,  Jason,"  whispered  Medea  (for  she  was  ill-natured, 
as  all  enchantresses  are,  and  wanted  to  make  the  bold  youth 


THE  GOLDEN  FLEECE.  405 

tremble),  "  what  do  you  think  now  of  your  prospect  of  winning 
the  Golden  Fleece?" 

Jason  answered  only  by  drawing  his  sword  and  making  a 
step  forward. 

"  Stay,  foolish  youth,"  said  Medea,  grasping  his  arm.  "  Do 
not  you  see  you  are  lost,  without  me  as  your  good  angel?  In 
this  gold  box  I  have  a  magic  potion,  which  \vill  do  the  dragon's 
business  far  more  effectually  than  your  sword." 

Tlie  dragon  had  probably  heard  the  voices ;  for,  swift  as 
lightning,  his  black  head  and  forked  tongue  came  hissing  among 
the  trees  again,  darting  full  forty  feet  at  a  stretch.  As  it  ap- 
proached, Medea  tossed  the  contents  of  the  gold  box  right  dovm 
the  monster's  wide  open  throat.  Immediately,  with  an  out- 
rageous hiss  and  a  tremendous  wriggle,  —  flinging  his  tail  up 
to  the  tiptop  of  the  tallest  tree,  and  shattering  all  its  branches 
as  it  crashed  heavily  down  again, — the  dragon  fell  at  full  length 
upon  the  ground,  and  lay  quite  motionless. 

"  It  is  only  a  sleeping  potion,"  said  the  enchantress  to  Prince 
Jason.  "  One  always  finds  a  use  for  these  mischievous  creaturei=:, 
sooner  or  later ;  so  I  did  not  wish  to  kill  him  outright.  Quick  ! 
Snatch  the  prize,  and  let  us  begone.  You  have  won  the  Goldea 
Fleece." 

Jason  caught  the  fleece  from  the  tree,  and  hurried  through 
the  grove,  the  deep  shadows  of  which  were  illuminated  as  ho 
passed  by  the  golden  glory  of  the  precious  object  that  he  bore 
along.  A  little  way  before  him,  he  beheld  the  old  woman 
whom  he  had  helped  over  the  stream,  with  her  peacock  beside 
her.  She  clapped  her  hands  for  joy,  and  beckoning  him  to 
make  haste,  disappeared  among  the  duskiness  of  the  trees. 
Espying  the  two  winged  sons  of  the  North  Wind  (who  wer3 
disporting  themselves  in  the  moonlight,  a  few  hundred  feet 
aloft),  Jason  bade  them  tell  the  rest  of  the  Argonauts  to 
embark  as  speedily  as  possible.  But  Lynceus,  with  his  sharp 
eyes,  had  already  caught  a  glimpse  of  him,  bringing  the  Golden 
Fleece,  although  several  stone  walls,  a  hill,  and  the  black  shad- 
ows of  the  grove  of  Mars  intervened  between.  By  his  advice, 
the  heroes  had  seated  themselves  on  the  benches  of  the  galley, 
with  their  oars  held  perpendicularly,  ready  to  let  fall  into  the 
water. 

As  Jason  drew  near,  he  heard  the  Talking  Image  calling  to 
him  with  more  than  ordinary  eagerness,  in  its  grave,  sweet 
voice  :  — 


406  BABYLON. 

"  Make  haste,  Prince  Jason  !  For  your  life,  make  haste  !  " 
With  one  bound  he  leaped  aboard.  At  sight  of  the  glorious 
radiance  of  the  Golden  Fleece,  the  nine  and  forty  heroes  gave 
a  mighty  shout,  and  Orpheus,  striking  his  harp,  sang  a  song  of 
triumph,  to  the  cadence  of  which  the  galley  flew  over  the 
water,  homeward  bound,  as  if  careering  along  with  wings  ! 


BABYLON. 

By  CHARLES  ROLLIN. 
[For  biographical  sketch,  see  page  65.] 

I.     The  Walls. 

Babylon  stood  on  a  large  flat  or  plain,  in  a  very  rich  and 
deep  soil.  The  walls  w^ere  every  way  prodigious.  They  were 
eighty-seven  feet  thick,  three  hundred  and  fifty  feet  high,  and 
four  hundred  and  eighty  furlongs,  or  sixty  of  our  miles,  in  cir- 
cumference. These  walls  were  drawn  round  the  city  in  the 
form  of  an  exact  square,  each  side  of  which  was  one  hundred 
and  twenty  furlongs,  or  fifteen  miles,  in  length,  and  all  built  of 
large  bricks  cemented  together  with  bitumen,  a  glutinous  slime 
arising  out  of  the  earth  in  that  country,  which  binds  in  build- 
ing much  stronger  and  firmer  than  lime,  and  soon  grows  much 
harder  than  the  bricks  or  stones  themselves,  which  it  cements 
together. 

These  walls  were  surrounded  on  the  outside  with  a  vast 
ditch,  full  of  water,  and  lined  with  bricks  on  both  sides.  The 
earth  that  was  dug  out  of  it  was  made  into  the  bricks  where- 
with the  walls  were  built ;  and  therefore,  from  the  vast  height  and 
breadth  of  the  walls,  may  be  inferred  the  greatness  of  the 
ditch. 

On  every  side  of  this  great  square  were  twenty-five  gates, 
that  is,  a  hundred  in  all,  which  were  all  made  of  solid  brass ; 
and  hence  it  is,  that  when  God  promised  to  Cyrus  the  conquest 
of  Babylon,  he  tells  him  "  That  he  would  break  in  pieces  before 
him  the  gates  of  brass."  Between  every  two  of  these  gates 
were  three  towers,  and  four  more  at  the  four  corners  of  this 
great  square,  and  three  between  each  of  these  corners  and  the 


BABYLON.  407 

next  gate  on  either  side  ;  every  one  of  these  towers  was  ten 
feet  higher  than  the  walls.  But  this  is  to  be  understood  only 
of  those  parts  of  the  wall  where  there  was  need  of  towers. 

From  the  twenty-five  gates  in  each  side  of  this  great  square 
extended  twenty-five  streets,  in  straight  lines  to  the  gates*, 
which  were  directly  over  against  them,  in  the  opposite  side  ;  so 
that  the  whole  number  of  the  streets  were  fifty,  each  fifteen 
miles  long,  twenty-five  of  which  passed  one  way,  and  twenty- 
five  the  other,  crossing  each  other  at  right  angles.  And 
besides  these,  there  were  also  four  half  streets,  which  had 
houses  only  on  one  side,  and  the  wall  on  the  other ;  these  went 
round  the  four  sides  of  the  city  next  the  walls,  and  were  each 
of  them  two  hundred  feet  broad ;  the  rest  were  about  a  hun- 
dred and  fifty.  By  these  streets  thus  crossing  each  other,  the 
whole  city  was  divided  into  six  hundred  and  seventy-six 
squares,  each  of  which  was  four  furlongs  and  a  half  on  every 
side,  that  is,  two  miles  and  a  quarter  in  circumference.  Round 
these  squares,  on  every  side  towards  the  streets,  stood  the 
houses,  which  were  not  contiguous,  but  had  void  spaces  between 
them,  all  built  three  or  four  stories  high,  and  embellished  with 
all  manner  of  ornaments  towards  the  streets.  The  space 
within,  in  the  middle  of  each  square,  was  likewise  all  vacant 
ground,  employed  for  yards,  gardens,  and  other  such  uses ;  so 
that  Babylon  was  greater  in  appearance  than  reality,  nearly 
one  half  of  the  city  being  taken  up  in  gardens  and  other  culti- 
vated lands,  as  we  are  told  by  Q.  Curtius. 

II.   The  Quays  and  Bridge. 

A  branch  of  the  river  Euphrates  ran  quite  across  the  city, 
from  the  north  to  the  south  side ;  on  each  side  of  the  river  was 
a  quay,  and  a  high  wall,  built  of  brick  and  bitumen,  of  the  same 
thickness  as  the  walls  that  went  round  the  city.  In  these  walls, 
opposite  to  every  street  that  led  to  the  river,  were  gates  of  brass, 
and  from  them  descents  by  steps  to  the  river,  for  the  conven- 
ience of  the  inhabitants,  who  used  to  pass  over  from  one  side  to 
the  other  in  boats,  having  no  other  way  of  crossing  the  river 
before  the  building  of  the  bridge.  These  brazen  gates  were 
open  in  the  daytime,  and  shut  in  the  night. 

The  bridge  was  not  inferior  to  any  of  the  other  buildings 
either  in  beauty  or  magnificence ;  it  was  a  furlong  in  length, 
and  thirty  feet  in  breadth,  built  with  wonderful  art,  to  supply 


408  BABYLON. 

the  defect  of  a  foundation  in  the  bottom  of  the  river,  which  was 
sandy.  The  arches  were  made  of  huge  stones,  fastened  together 
with  chains  of  iron  and  melted  lead.  Before  they  began  to 
build  the  bridge,  they  turned  the  course  of  the  river,  and  laid 
its  channel  dry,  having  another  view  in  so  doing  besides  that  of 
laying  the  foundations  more  commodiously,  as  I  shall  hereafter 
explain.  And  as  everything  was  prepared  beforehand,  both 
the  bridge  and  the  quays,  which  I  have  already  described,  were 
built  in  that  interval. 

III.   The  Lake,  Ditches,  and  Canals  made  for  the 
Draining  of  the  River. 

These  works,  objects  of  admiration  for  the  skillful  in  all 
ages,  were  more  useful  than  magnificent.  In  the  beginning  of 
the  summer,  the  melting  of  the  snow  upon  the  mountains  of 
Armenia  causes  a  vast  increase  of  waters,  which,  running  into 
the  Euphrates  in  the  months  of  June,  July,  and  August,  makes 
it  overflow  its  banks,  and  occasions  such  another  inundation  as 
the  Nile  does  in  Egypt. 

To  prevent  the  damage  which  both  the  city  and  country 
received  from  these  inundations,  at  a  very  considerable  distance 
above  the  town,  two  artificial  canals  were  cut,  which  turned  the 
course  of  these  waters  into  the  Tigris  before  they  reached  Baby- 
lon. And  to  secure  the  country  yet  more  from  the  danger  of 
inundations,  and  to  keep  the  river  within  its  channel,  they  raised 
prodigious  artificial  banks  on  both  sides  the  river,  built  v.'ith 
brick,  cemented  with  bitumen,  which  began  at  the  head  of  the 
artificial  canals,  and  extended  below  the  city. 

To  facilitate  the  making  of  these  works,  it  was  necessary  to 
turn  the  course  of  the  river  another  way ;  for  which  purpose, 
to  the  west  of  Babylon,  was  dug  a  prodigious  artificial  lake, 
forty  miles  square,  one  hundred  and  sixty  in  compass,  and 
thirty-five  feet  deep,  according  to  Herodotus,  and  seventy-five 
feet  according  to  Megasthenes.  Into  tliis  lake  the  whole  river 
was  turned  by  an  artificial  canal,  cut  from  the  west  side  of  it, 
till  the  whole  work  was  finished,  when  it  was  made  to  flow  in 
its  former  channel.  But  that  the  Euphrates,  in  the  time  of  its 
increase,  might  not  overflow  the  city  through  the  gates  on  its 
sides,  this  lake,  with  the  canal  from  the  river,  was  still  pre- 
served. The  water  received  into  the  lake  at  the  time  of  these 
overflowings  was  kept  there  all  the  year,  as  a  common  reser- 


BABYLON.  409 

voir,  for  the  benefit  of  the  country,  to  bo  let  out  by  sluices  at 
convenient  times  for  watering  the  lands  below  it.  The  lake, 
therefore,  was  equally  useful  in  securing  the  country  from 
inundations,  and  rendering  it  fertile.  I  relate  the  wonders  of 
Babylon  as  they  are  delivered  down  to  us  by  the  ancients,  but 
there  are  some  of  them  which  are  scarcely  to  be  comprehended 
or  l^elieved,  of  which  number  is  the  lake  I  have  described.  I 
mean  with  respect  to  its  vast  extent. 

IV.    The  Palaces  and  the  Hanging  Gardens. 

At  the  two  ends  of  the  bridges  were  two  palaces,  which 
had  a  communication  with  each  other  by  a  vault,  built  under 
the  channel  of  the  river  at  the  time  of  its  being  dry.  The 
old  palace,  which  stood  on  the  east  side  of  the  river,  was  thirty 
furlongs,  or  three  miles  and  three  quarters,  in  compass  ;  near 
which  stood  the  temple  of  Belus,  of  which  we  shall  soon  speak. 
The  new  palace,  which  stood  on  the  west  side  of  the  river, 
opposite  to  the  other,  was  sixty  furlongs,  or  seven  miles  and 
a  half,  in  compass.  It  was  surrounded  with  three  walls,  one 
within  another,  with  considerable  spaces  between  them.  Tlicse 
walls,  as  also  those  of  the  other  palace,  were  embellished  with 
an  infinite  variety  of  sculptures,  representing  all  kinds  of  ani- 
mals  to  the  life.  Among  them  was  a  curious  hunting  piece, 
in  which  Semiramis,  on  horseback,  was  throwing  her  javelin 
at  a  leopard,  and  her  husband  Ninus  piercing  a  lion. 

In  this  last,  or  new  palace,  were  the  hanging  gardens,  so 
celebrated  among  the  Greeks.  They  contained  a  square  of 
four  plethra,  that  is,  of  four  hundred  feet,  on  every  side,  and 
were  carried  aloft  into  the  air,  in  the  manner  of  several  large 
terraces,  one  above  another,  till  the  height  equaled  that  of 
the  walls  of  the  city.  The  ascent  was  from  terrace  to  terrace, 
by  stairs  ten  feet  wide.  The  whole  pile  was  sustained  by 
vast  arches,  raised  upon  other  arches,  one  above  another,  and 
strengthened  by  a  wall  twenty-two  feet  thick,  surrounding  it 
on  every  side.  On  the  top  of  the  arches  were  first  laid  large 
flat  stones,  sixteen  feet  long,  and  four  broad ;  over  these  was 
a  layer  of  reeds,  mixed  with  a  great  quantity  of  bitumen,  upon 
which  were  two  rows  of  bricks,  closely  cemented  together  with 
plaster.  The  whole  was  covered  with  thick  sheets  of  lead, 
upon  which  lay  the  mold  of  the  garden.  And  all  this  floor- 
ing was    contrived   to  keep   the  moisture    of   the  mold   from 


410  ATHENE. 

running  through  the  arches.  The  mold,  or  earth,  laid  here, 
was  so  deep  that  the  greatest  trees  miglit  take  root  in  it ;  and 
with  such  the  terraces  were  covered,  as  well  as  with  all  other 
plants  and  flowers  that  were  proper  for  a  garden  of  pleasure. 
In  the  upper  terrace  there  was  an  engine,  or  kind  of  pump,  by 
which  water  was  drawn  up  out  of  the  river,  and  from  thence 
the  whole  garden  was  watered.  In  the  spaces  between  the 
several  arches,  upon  which  this  whole  structure  rested,  were 
large  and  magnificent  apartments,  that  were  very  light,  and 
had  the  advantage  of  a  beautiful  prospect. 


ATHENE.^ 

By  Sir  LEWIS  MORRIS. 

[Sir  Lewis  INIorris  :  English  poet ;  born  at  Carmartlien,  "Wales,  1832. 
Until  1881  his  profession  was  the  law ;  in  1887  he  became  secretary  of  Uni- 
versity College,  Wales.  The  descendant  of  several  generations  of  Welsh  bards, 
he  has  published  three  series  of  "Songs  of  Two  Worlds,"  1871,  1874,  1875; 
"The  Epic  of  Hades,"  1876;  "  Guen,"  1879;  "The  Vision  of  Saints,"  1890. 
His  poems  have  been  recently  collected.] 

While  I  stood 
Expectant,  lo !  a  fair  pale  form  drew  near 
With  front  severe,  and  wide  blue  eyes  which  bore 
Mild  wisdom  in  their  gaze.     Great  purity 
Shone  from  her  —  not  the  young-eyed  innocence 
Of  her  whom  first  I  saw,  but  that  which  comes 
From  wider  knowledge,  which  restrains  the  tide 
Of  passionate  youth,  and  leads  tbe  musing  soul 
By  the  calm  deeps  of  Wisdom.     And  I  knew 
My  eyes  had  seen  the  fair,  the  virgin  Queen, 
Who  once  within  her  shining  Parthenon 
Beheld  the  sages  kneel. 

She  with  clear  voice 
And  coldly  sweet,  yet  with  a  softness  too, 
As  doth  befit  a  virgin :  — 

"  She  does  right 
To  boast  her  sway,  my  sister,  seeing  indeed 
That  all  things  are  as  by  a  double  law. 
And  from  a  double  root  the  tree  of  Life 
Springs  up  to  the  face  of  heaven.     Body  and  Soul, 
Matter  and  Spirit,  lower  joys  of  Sense 

*  From  '*  Epic  of  Hades."     By  permission  of  Kegan  Paul,  Trench, 
Triibner  &  Co.     (Price  .5«.) 


ATHENE.  411 

And  higher  joys  of  Thought,  I  know  that  both 

Build  up  the  shrine  of  Being.     The  brute  sense 

Leaves  man  a  brute ;  but,  winged  with  soaring  thought, 

Mounts  to  high  heaven.     The  unembodied  spirit, 

Dwelling  alone,  unmated,  void  of  sense. 

Is  impotent.     And  yet  I  hold  there  is, 

Far  off,  but  not  too  far  for  mortal  reach, 

A  calmer  height,  where,  nearer  to  the  stars, 

Tliought  sits  alone  and  gazes  with  rapt  gaze, 

A  large-eyed  maiden  in  a  robe  of  white, 

Who  brings  the  light  of  Knowledge  down,  and  draws 

To  her  pontifical  eyes  a  bridge  of  gold. 

Which  spans  from  earth  to  heaven. 

For  what  were  life, 
If  things  of  sense  were  all,  for  those  large  souls 
And  high,  which  grudging  Nature  has  shut  fast 
Within  unlovely  forms,  or  those  from  whom 
The  circuit  of  the  rapid  gliding  years 
Steals  the  brief  gift  of  beauty  ?     Shall  we  hold. 
With  idle  singers,  all  the  treasure  of  hope 
Is  lost  with  youth  —  swift-fleeting,  treacherous  youth, 
Which  fades  and  flies  before  the  ripening  brain 
Crowns  life  with  Wisdom's  crown  ?    Nay,  even  in  youth, 
Is  it  not  more  to  walk  upon  the  heights 
Alone  —  the  cold  free  heights  —  and  mark  the  vale 
Lie  breathless  in  the  glare,  or  hidden  and  blurred 
By  cloud  and  storm  ;  or  pestilence  and  war 
Creep  on  with  blood  and  death ;  while  the  soul  dwells 
Apart  upon  the  peaks,  outfronts  the  sun 
As  the  eagle  does,  and  takes  the  coming  dawn 
While  all  the  vale  is  dark,  and  knows  the  springs 
Of  tiny  rivulets  hurrying  from  the  snows, 
WTiich  soon  shall  swell  to  vast  resistless  floods. 
And  feed  the  Oceans  which  divide  the  'W'orld  ? 

"  Oh,  ecstasy !  oh,  wonder !  oh,  delight ! 
Wliich  neither  the  slow-withering  wear  of  Time, 
Which  takes  all  else  —  the  smooth  and  rounded  cheek 
Of  youth ;  the  lightsome  step ;  the  warm  young  heart 
WTiich  beats  for  love  or  friend ;  the  treasure  of  hope 
Immeasurable ;  the  quick  coursing  blood 
"^Miich  makes  it  joy  to  be,  —  ay,  takes  them  all 
And  leaves  us  naught  —  nor  yet  satiety 
Born  of  too  full  possession,  takes  or  mars ! 
Oh,  fair  delight  of  learning !  which  grows  great 
And  stronger  and  more  keen,  for  slower  limbs. 


412         ,  THE  GREATNESS  OF  ATHENS. 

And  dimmer  eyes  and  loneliness,  and  loss 

Of  lower  good  —  wealth,  friendship,  ay,  and  Love  — 

When  the  swift  soul,  turning  its  weary  gaze 

From  the  old  vanished  joys,  projects  itself 

Into  the  void  and  floats  in  empty  space. 

Striving  to  reach  the  n)ystic  source  of  Things, 

The  secrets  of  the  earth  and  sea  and  air. 

The  Law  that  holds  the  process  of  the  suns, 

The  awful  depths  of  Mind  and  Thought ;  the  prime 

Unfathomable  mystery  of  God ! 

"Is  there,  then,  any  who  holds  my  worship  cold 
And  lifeless  ?    Nay,  but  'tis  the  light  which  cheers 
The  waning  life !     Love  thou  thy  love,  brave  youth ! 
Cleave  to  thy  love,  fair  maid !  it  is  the  Law 
WTiich  dominates  the  world,  that  bids  ye  use 
Your  nature ;  but,  when  now  the  fuller  tide 
Slackens  a  little,  turn  your  calmer  eyes 
To  the  fair  page  of  Knowledge.     It  is  power 
I  give,  and  power  is  precious.     It  is  strength 
To  live  four-square,  careless  of  outward  shows, 
x\nd  self-sufficing.     It  is  clearer  sight 
To  know  the  rule  of  life,  the  Eternal  scheme} 
And,  knowing  it,  to  do  and  not  to  err, 
And,  doing,  to  be  blest." 


THE   GREATNESS  OF  ATHENS.' 

(From  the  Funeral  Speech  of  Pericles  :  translated  by  Benjamin  Jowett.) 

I  WILL  speak  first  of  our  ancestors,  for  it  is  right  and 
becoming  that  now,  when  we  are  lamenting  the  dead,  a  tribute 
should  be  paid  to  their  memory.  There  has  never  been  a  time 
when  they  did  not  inhabit  this  land,  which  by  their  valor  they 
have  handed  down  from  generation  to  generation,  and  we  have 
received  from  them  a  free  state.  But  if  they  were  worthy  of 
praise,  still  more  were  our  fathers,  who  added  to  their  inherit- 
ance, and  after  many  a  struggle  transmitted  to  us  their  sons 
this  great  empire.  And  we  ourselves  assembled  here  to-day, 
who  are  still  most  of  us  in  the  vigor  of  life,  have  chiefly  done 
the  work  of  improvement,  and  have  richly  endowed  our  city 
with  all  things,  so  that  she  is  sufficient  for  herself  both  in  peace 
'  By  permisBlon  of  the  Master  of  Balliol  College. 


THE  GREATNESS  OF  ATHENS.    '  413 

and  war.  Of  the  military  exploits  by  which  our  various  posses- 
sions were  acquired,  or  of  the  energy  with  which  we  or  our 
fathers  drove  back  the  tide  of  war,  Hellenic  or  Barbarian,  I 
will  not  speak  ;  for  the  tale  would  be  long  and  is  familiar  to 
you.  But  before  I  praise  the  dead,  I  should  like  to  point  out 
by  what  principles  of  action  we  rose  to  power,  and  under  what 
institutions  and  through  what  manner  of  life  our  empire  became 
great.  For  I  conceive  that  such  thoughts  are  not  unsuited  to 
the  occasion,  and  that  this  numerous  assembly  of  citizens  and 
strangers  may  profitably  listen  to  them. 

Our  form  of  government  does  not  enter  into  rivalry  with 
the  institutions  of  others.  We  do  not  copy  our  neighbors,  but 
are  an  example  to  them.  It  is  true  that  we  are  called  a  democ- 
racy, for  the  administration  is  in  the  hands  of  the  many  and 
not  of  the  few.  But  while  the  law  secures  equal  justice  to  all 
alike  in  their  private  disputes,  the  claim  of  excellence  is  also 
recognized  ;  and  when  a  citizen  is  in  any  way  distinguished,  he 
is  preferred  to  the  public  service,  not  as  a  matter  of  privilege, 
but  as  the  reward  of  merit.  Neither  is  poverty  a  bar,  but  a 
man  may  benefit  his  country  whatever  be  the  obscurity  of  his 
condition.  There  is  no  exclusiveness  in  our  public  life,  and  in 
our  private  intercourse  Ave  are  not  suspicious  of  one  another, 
nor  angry  with  our  neighbor  if  he  does  what  he  likes  ;  we  do 
not  put  on  sour  looks  at  him  which,  though  harmless,  are  not 
pleasant.  While  we  are  thus  unconstrained  in  our  private 
intercourse,  a  spirit  of  reverence  pervades  our  public  acts ;  we 
are  prevented  from  doing  wrong  by  respect  for  authority  and 
for  the  laws,  having  an  especial  regard  to  those  which  are 
ordained  for  the  protection  of  the  injured  as  well  as  to  those 
unwritten  laws  which  bring  upon  the  transgressor  of  them  the 
reprobation  of  the  general  sentiment. 

And  we  have  not  forgotten  to  provide  for  our  weary  sj^irits 
many  relaxations  from  toil ;  we  have  regular  games  and  sacri- 
fices throughout  the  year  ;  at  home  the  style  of  our  life  is 
refined  ;  and  the  delight  which  we  daily  feel  in  all  these  things 
helps  to  banish  melancholy.  Because  of  the  greatness  of  our 
city  the  fruits  of  the  whole  earth  flow  in  upon  us  ;  so  that  we 
enjoy  the  goods  of  other  countries  as  freely  as  of  our  own. 

Then,  again,  our  military  training  is  in  many  respects 
superior  to  that  of  our  adversaries.  Our  city  is  thrown  open 
to  the  world,  and  we  never  expel  a  foreigner  or  prevent  him 
from  seeing  or  learning  anything  of  which  the  secret  if  revealed 


414  THE   GREATNESS  OF  ATHENS. 

to  an  enemy  might  profit  him.  We  rely  not  upon  management 
or  trickery,  but  upon  our  own  hearts  and  hands.  And  in  the 
matter  of  education,  whereas  they  from  early  youth  are  always 
undergoing  laborious  exercises  which  are  to  make  them  brave, 
we  live  at  ease,  and  yet  are  equally  ready  to  face  the  perils 
which  they  face.  And  here  is  the  proof.  The  Lacedcemoiiians 
come  into  Attica  not  by  themselves,  but  with  their  whole  con- 
federacy following  ;  we  go  alone  into  a  neighbor's  country  ; 
and  although  our  opponents  are  fighting  for  their  homes  and 
we  on  a  foreign  soil,  we  have  seldom  any  difficulty  in  over- 
coming them.  Our  enemies  have  never  yet  felt  our  united 
strength ;  the  care  of  a  navy  divides  out  attention,  and  on  land 
we  are  obliged  to  send  our  own  citizens  everywhere.  But  they, 
if  they  meet  and  defeat  a  part  of  our  army,  are  as  proud  as  if 
they  had  routed  us  all,  and  when  defeated  they  pretend  to  have 
been  vanquished  by  us  all. 

If  then  we  prefer  to  meet  danger  with  a  light  heart  but 
without  laborious  training,  and  Avith  a  courage  which  is 
gained  by  habit  and  not  enforced  by  law,  are  we  not  greatly 
the  gainers?  Since  we  do  not  anticipate  the  pain,  although, 
when  the  hour  comes,  we  can  be  as  brave  as  those  who  never 
allow  themselves  to  rest ;  and  thus  too  our  city  is  equally 
admirable  in  peace  and  in  war.  For  we  are  lovers  of  the 
beautiful,  yet  simple  in  our  tastes,  and  we  cultivate  the  mind 
without  loss  of  manliness.  Wealth  we  employ,  not  for  talk 
and  ostentation,  but  when  there  is  a  real  use  for  it.  To  avow 
poverty  with  us  is  no  disgrace  :  the  true  disgrace  is  in  doing 
nothing  to  avoid  it.  An  Atlienian  citizen  does  not  neglect  the 
state  because  he  takes  care  of  his  own  household  ;  and  even  those 
of  us  who  are  engaged  in  business  have  a  very  fair  idea  of  politics. 
We  alone  regard  a  man  who  takes  no  interest  in  public  affairs, 
not  as  a  harmless,  but  as  a  useless  character  ;  and  if  few  of  us 
are  originators,  we  are  all  sound  judges  of  a  policy.  The 
great  impediment  to  action  is,  in  our  opinion,  not  discussion, 
but  the  want  of  that  knowledge  which  is  gained  by  discussion 
preparatory  to  action.  For  we  have  a  peculiar  power  of  think- 
ing before  we  act  and  of  acting  too,  whereas  other  men  are 
courageous  from  ignorance  but  hesitate  upon  reflection.  And 
they  are  surely  to  be  esteemed  the  bravest  spirits  who,  having 
the  clearest  sense  both  of  the  pains  and  pleasures  of  life,  do  not 
on  that  account  shrink  from  danger.  In  doing  good,  again,  we 
are  unlike  others ;  we  make  our  friends  by  conferring,  not  by 


HOMER 


THE  GREATNESS  OF  ATHENS.  415 

receiving,  favors.  Now  he  who  confers  a  favor  is  the  firmer 
friend,  because  he  vv^ould  fain  by  kindness  keep  alive  the  memory 
of  an  obligation;  but  the  recipient  is  colder  in  his  feelings, 
because  he  knows  that  in  requiting  another's  generosity  he  will 
not  be  winning  gratitude,  but  only  paying  a  debt.  We  alone 
do  good  to  our  neighbors  not  upon  a  calculation  of  interest,  but 
in  the  confidence  of  freedom  and  in  a  frank  and  fearless  spirit. 
To  sum  up  :  I  say  that  Athens  is  the  school  of  Hellas,  and  that 
the  individual  Athenian  in  his  own  person  seems  to  have  the 
power  of  adapting  himself  to  the  most  varied  forms  of  action 
with  the  utmost  versatility  and  grace.  This  is  no  passing 
and  idle  word,  but  truth  and  fact  ;  and  the  assertion  is  verified 
by  the  position  to  which  these  qualities  have  raised  the  state. 
For  in  the  hour  of  trial  Athens  alone  among  her  contemporaries 
is  superior  to  the  report  of  her.  No  enemy  who  comes  against 
her  is  indignant  at  the  reverses  which  he  sustains  at  the  hands 
of  such  a  city  ;  no  subject  complains  that  his  masters  are  un- 
worthy of  him.  And  we  shall  assuredly  not  be  without  wit- 
nesses ;  there  are  mighty  monuments  of  our  power  which  will 
make  us  the  wonder  of  this  and  of  succeeding  ages  ;  we  shall 
not  need  the  praises  of  Homer  or  of  any  other  panegyrist 
whose  poetry  may  please  for  the  moment,  although  his  rep- 
resentation of  the  facts  will  not  bear  the  light  of  day.  For 
we  have  compelled  every  land  and  every  sea  to  open  a  path 
for  our  valor,  and  have  everywhere  planted  eternal  memorials 
of  our  friendship  and  of  our  enmity.  Such  is  the  city  for  whose 
sake  these  men  nobly  fought  and  died  ;  they  could  not  bear  the 
thought  that  she  might  be  taken  from  them  ;  and  every  one  of 
us  who  survive  should  gladly  toil  on  her  behalf. 


416  THE  PASS  OF  THERMOPYL^. 

THE  PASS   OF  THERMOPYLiE/ 

B.C.  430. 

By  charlotte  M.  YONGE. 

[For  biographical  sketch,  see  page  27.] 

There  was  trembling  in  Greece.      "  The  Great  King,"  as 
the  Greeks  called  the  chief  potentate  of  the  East,  whose  domains 
stretched  from  the  Indian  Caucasus  to  the  iEgyeus,  from  the 
Caspian  to  the  Red  Sea,  was  marshaling  his  forces   against 
the  little  free  states  that  nestled  amid  the  rocks  and  gulfs  of  the 
Eastern  Mediterranean.     Already  had  his  might  devoured  the 
cherished    colonies   of   the    Greeks    on  the   eastern   shore   of 
the  Archipelago,  and  every  traitor  to  home  institutions  found 
a  ready  asylum  at  that  despotic  court,  and  tried  to  revenge  his 
own  wrongs   by  whispering  incitements  to   invasion.      "  All 
peoples,  nations,  and  languages  "  was  the  commencement  of  the 
decrees  of  that  monarch's  court;    and  it  was  scarcely  a  vain 
boast,  for  his  satraps  ruled  over  subject  kingdoms,  and  among 
his  tributary  nations  he  counted  the  Chaldean,  with  his  learn- 
ing and  old  civilization,  the  wise  and  steadfast  Jew,  the  skillful 
Phceniciau,  the  learned  Egyptian,  the  wild  freebooting  Arab  of 
the  desert,  the  dark-skinned  Ethiopian,  and  over  all  these  ruled 
the  keen-witted,  active  native  Persian  race,  the  conquerors  of 
all  the  rest,  and  led   by  a  chosen  band  proudly  called   the 
Immortal.       His   many   capitals  —  Babylon    the   great,    Susa, 
Persepolis,  and  the  like — were  names  of  dreamy  splendor  to 
the  Greeks,  described   now  and  then   by  lonians  from  Asia 
Minor  who  had  carried  their  tribute  to  the  king's  own  feet, 
or  by  courtier  slaves  who  had  escaped  with  difficulty  from  being 
all  too  serviceable  at  the  tyrannic  court.     And  the  lord  of  this 
enormous  empire  was  about  to  launch  his  countless  host  against 
the  little  cluster  of  states,  the  whole  of  which  together  would 
hardly  equal  one  province  of  the  huge  Asiatic  realm !     More- 
over, it  was  a  war  not  only  on  the  men  but  on  their  gods.    The 
Persians  were  zealous  adorers  of  the  sun  and  of  fire,  they  abhorred 
the  idol  worship  of  the  Greeks,  and  defiled  and  plundered  every 
temple  that  fell  in  their  way.    Death  and  desolation  were  almost 
the  best  that  could  be  looked  for  at  such  hands  —  slavery  and 
torture  from  cruelly  barbarous  masters  would  only  too  surely 
'  By  permission  of  the  publishers,  Macmillan  &  Co.,  Ltd. 


THE  PASS  OF   THERMOPYLiE.  417 

be  the  lot  of  numbers,  should  their  land  fall  a  prey  to  the  con- 
querors. 

True  it  was  that  ten  years  back  the  former  Great  King  had 
sent  his  best  troops  to  be  signally  defeated  upon  the  coast  of 
Attica ;  but  the  losses  at  Marathon  had  but  stimulated  the 
Persian  lust  of  conquest,  and  the  new  King  Xerxes  was  gather- 
ing together  such  myriads  of  men  as  should  crush  down  the 
Greeks  and  overrun  their  country  by  mere  force  of  numbers. 

The  muster  place  was  at  Sardis,  and  there  Greek  spies  had 
seen  the  multitudes  assembling  and  the  state  and  magnificence 
of  the  king's  attendants.  Envoys  had  come  from  him  to 
demand  earth  and  water  from  each  state  in  Greece,  as  emblems 
that  land  and  sea  were  his,  but  each  state  was  resolved  to  be 
free,  and  only  Thessaly,  that  which  lay  first  in  his  path,  con- 
sented to  yield  the  token  of  subjugation.  A  council  Avas  held 
at  the  Isthmus  of  Corinth,  and  attended  by  deputies  from  all 
the  states  of  Greece  to  consider  of  the  best  means  of  defense. 
The  ships  of  the  enemy  would  coast  round  the  shores  of  the 
iEgean  Sea,  the  land  army  would  cross  the  Hellespont  on  a 
bridge  of  boats  lashed  together,  and  march  southwards  into 
Greece.  The  only  hope  of  averting  the  danger  lay  in  defend- 
ing such  passages  as,  from  the  nature  of  the  ground,  were  so 
narrow  that  only  a  few  persons  could  fight  hand  to  hand  ai 
once,  so  that  courage  would  be  )f  more  avail  than  numbers. 

The  first  of  these  passes  wa^s  called  Terape,  and  a  body  of 
troops  was  sent  to  guard  it;  but  they  found  that  this  was  use- 
less and  impossible,  and  came  back  again.  The  next  Avas  at 
Thermopylae.  Look  in  your  map  of  the  Archipelago,  or  iEgean 
Sea,  as  it  was  then  called,  for  the  great  island  of  Negropont,  or 
by  its  old  name,  Eubcea.  It  looks  like  a  piece  broken  off  from 
the  coast,  and  to  the  north  is  shaped  like  the  head  of  a  bird,  with 
the  beak  running  into  a  gulf,  that  would  fit  over  it,  upon  the 
mainland;  and  between  the  island  and  the  coast  is  an  exceedingly 
narrow  strait.  The  Persian  army  would  have  to  march  round 
the  edge  of  the  gulf.  They  could  not  cut  straight  across  the 
country,  because  the  ridge  of  mountains  called  Q^^ta  rose  up  and 
barred  their  way.  Indeed,  the  woods,  rocks,  and  precipices 
came  down  so  near  the  seashore,  that  in  two  places  there  was 
only  room  for  one  single  wheel  track  between  the  steeps  and 
the  impassable  morass  that  formed  the  border  of  the  gulf  on  its 
south  side.  These  two  very  narrow  places  were  called  the 
gates  of  the  pass,  and  were  about  a  mile  apart.     There  was  a 


418  THE  PASS  OF  TlIERMOPYL.Ii. 

little  more  width  left  in  the  intervening  space  ;  but  in  this 
there  Avere  a  number  of  springs  of  warm  mineral  water,  salt  and 
sulphurous,  which  were  used  for  the  sick  to  bathe  in,  and  thus 
the  place  was  called  Thermopylpe,  or  the  Hot  Gates.  A  wall 
had  once  been  built  across  the  westernmost  of  these  narrow 
places,  when  the  Thessalians  and  Phocians,  who  lived  on  either 
side  of  it,  had  been  at  war  with  one  another  ;  but  it  had  been 
allowed  to  go  to  decay,  since  the  Phocians  had  found  out  that 
there  was  a  very  steep  narrow  mountain  path  along  the  bed  of 
a  torrent,  by  which  it  was  possible  to  cross  from  one  territory 
to  the  other  without  going  round  this  marshy  coast  road. 

This  was,  therefore,  an  excellent  place  to  defend.  The  Greek 
ships  were  all  drawn  up  on  the  further  side  of  Eubcea  to  pre- 
vent the  Persian  vessels  from  getting  into  the  strait  and  land- 
ing men  beyond  the  pass,  and  a  division  of  the  army  was  sent 
off  to  guard  the  Hot  Gates.  The  council  at  the  Isthmus  did 
not  know  of  the  mountain  pathway,  and  thought  that  all  would 
be  safe  as  long  as  the  Persians  were  kept  out  of  the  coast  path. 

The  troops  sent  for  this  purpose  were  from  different  cities,  and 
amounted  to  about  four  thousand,  who  were  to  keep  the  pass 
against  two  millions.  The  leader  of  them  was  Leonidas,  who  had 
newly  become  one  of  the  two  kings  of  Sparta,  the  city  that  above 
all  in  Greece  trained  its  sons  to  be  hardy  soldiers,  dreading  death 
infinitely  less  than  shame.  Leonidas  had  already  made  up  his 
mind  that  the  expedition  would  probably  be  his  death,  perhaps 
because  a  prophecy  had  been  given  at  the  Temple  at  Delphi 
that  Sparta  should  be  saved  by  the  death  of  one  of  her  kings  of 
the  race  of  Hercules.  He  was  allowed  by  law  to  take  with  him 
three  hundred  men,  and  these  he  chose  most  carefully,  not 
merely  for  their  strength  and  courage,  but  selecting  those  who 
had  sons,  so  that  no  family  might  be  altogether  destroyed. 
These  Spartans,  with  their  helots  or  slaves,  made  up  his  own 
share  of  the  numbers,  but  all  the  army  was  under  his  general- 
ship. It  is  even  said  that  the  three  hundred  celebrated  their 
own  funeral  rites  before  they  set  out,  lest  they  should  be 
deprived  of  them  by  the  enemy,  since,  as  we  have  already  seen, 
it  was  the  Greek  belief  that  the  spirits  of  the  dead  found  no 
rest  till  their  obsequies  had  been  performed.  Such  prepara- 
tions did  not  daunt  the  spirits  of  Leonidas  and  his  men,  and  his 
wife,  Gorgo,  was  not  a  woman  to  be  faint-hearted  or  hold  him 
back.  Long  before,  when  she  was  a  very  little  girl,  a  word  of 
hers  had  saved  her  father  from  listening  to  a  traitorous  message 


THE   PASS   OF   THERMOPYLAE.  419 

f foin  the  king  of  Persia ;  and  every  Spartan  lady  was  bred  up 
to  be  able  to  say  to  those  she  best  loved  that  they  must  come 
home  from  battle  "  with  the  shield  or  on  it  "  —  either  carrying 
it  victoriously  or  borne  upon  it  as  a  corpse. 

When  Leonidas  came  to  Thermopylce,  the  Phocians  told 
him  of  the  mountain  path  through  the  chestnut  woods  of  Mount 
CEta,  and  begged  to  have  the  privilege  of  guarding  it  on  a  spot 
high  up  on  the  mountain  side,  assuring  him  that  it  was  very 
hard  to  find  at  the  other  end,  and  that  there  was  every  proba- 
bility that  the  enemy  would  never  discover  it.  He  consented, 
and  encamping  around  the  warm  springs,  caused  the  broken  wall 
to  be  repaired,  and  made  ready  to  meet  the  foe. 

The  Persian  army  were  seen  covering  the  whole  country 
like  locusts,  and  the  hearts  of  some  of  the  southern  Greeks  in 
the  pass  began  to  sink.  Their  homes  in  the  Peloponnesus  were 
comparatively  secure  —  had  they  not  better  fall  back  and  re- 
serve themselves  to  defend  the  Isthmus  of  Corinth?  But 
Leonidas,  though  Sparta  was  safe  below  the  Isthmus,  had  no 
intention  of  abandoning  his  northern  allies,  and  kept  the  other 
Peloponnesians  to  their  posts,  only  sending  messengers  for 
further  help. 

Presently  a  Persian  on  horseback  rode  up  to  reconnoiter 
the  pass.  He  could  not  see  over  the  wall,  but  in  front  of  it 
and  on  the  ramparts,  he  saw  the  Spartans,  some  of  them  en- 
gaged in  active  sports,  and  others  in  combing  their  long  hair. 
He  rode  back  to  the  king,  and  told  him  what  he  had  seen. 
Now,  Xerxes  had  in  his  camp  an  exiled  Spartan  prince,  named 
Demaratus,  who  had  become  a  traitor  to  his  country,  and  was 
serving  as  counselor  to  the  enemy.  Xerxes  sent  for  him,  and 
asked  whether  his  countrymen  w^ere  mad  to  be  thus  employed 
instead  of  fleeing  away;  but  Demaratus  made  answer  that  a 
hard  fight  was  no  doubt  in  preparation,  and  that  it  was  the 
custom  of  the  Spartans  to  array  their  hair  with  especial  care 
when  they  were  about  to  enter  upon  any  great  peril.  Xerxes 
would,  however,  not  believe  that  so  petty  a  force  could  intend 
to  resist  him,  and  waited  four  days,  probably  expecting  his 
fleet  to  assist  him,  but  as  it  did  not  appear,  the  attack  ^vas  made. 

The  Greeks,  stronger  men  and  more  heavily  armed,  Avere 
far  better  able  to  fight  to  advantage  than  the  Persians  with 
their  short  spears  and  wicker  shields,  and  beat  them  off  with 
great  ease.  It  is  said  that  Xerxes  three  times  leapt  off  his 
throne  in  despair  at  the  sight  of  his  troops  being  driven  back- 


420  THE   PASS   OF   TIiP:RMOPYLiE. 

v.arcls ;  and  thus  for  two  days  it  seemed  as  easy  to  force  a  way 
through  the  Spartans  as  through  the  rocks  themselves.  Nay, 
how  coukl  slavish  troops,  dragged  from  homo  to  spread  the  victo- 
ries of  an  ambitious  king,  fight  like  freemen  wJio  felt  that  their 
strokes  were  to  defend  their  homes  and  children  ? 

But  on  that  e^^ening  a  wretched  man,  named  Ephialtes,  crept 
into  the  Persian  camp,  and  offered,  for  a  great  sum  of  money, 
to  phoAv  the  mountain  path  that  would  enable  the  enemy  to  take 
the  brave  defenders  in  the  rear  !  A  Persian  general,  named 
Hydarnes,  was  sent  off  at  nightfall  with  a  detachment  to  secure 
this  passage,  and  was  guided  through  the  thick  forests  that 
clothed  the  hillside.  In  the  stillness  of  the  air,  at  daybreak,  the 
Phocian  guards  of  the  path  were  startled  by  the  crackling  of  the 
chestnut  leaves  under  the  tread  of  many  feet.  They  started 
up,  but  a  shower  of  arrows  was  discharged  on  them,  and  forget- 
ting all  save  the  present  alarm,  they  fled  to  a  higher  part  of  the 
mountain,  and  the  enemy,  without  waiting  to  pursue  them, 
began  to  descend. 

As  day  dawned,  morning  light  showed  the  watchers  of  the 
Grecian  camp  below  a  glittering  and  shimmering  in  the  torrent 
bed  where  the  shaggy  forests  opened ;  but  it  was  not  the  sparkle 
of  water,  but  tlie  shine  of  gilded  helmets  and  the  gleaming  of 
silvered  spears  !  Moreover,  a  Cimmerian  crept  over  to  the  wall 
from  the  Persian  camp  with  i/idings  that  the  path  had  been 
betrayed,  that  the  enemy  were  climbing  it,  and  would  come 
down  beyond  the  Eastern  Gate.  Still,  the  way  was  rugged  and 
circuitous,  the  Persians  would  hardly  descend  before  midday, 
and  there  was  ample  time  for  the  Greeks  to  escape  before  they 
could  thus  be  shut  in  by  the  enemy. 

There  was  a  short  council  held  over  the  morning  sacrifice. 
Megistias,  the  seer,  on  inspecting  the  entrails  of  the  slain  vic- 
tim, declared,  as  well  he  might,  that  their  appearance  boded 
disaster.  Him  Leonidas  ordered  to  retire,  but  he  refused, 
though  he  sent  home  his  only  son.  There  was  no  disgrace  to 
an  ordinary  tone  of  mind  in  leaving  a  post  tliat  could  not  be 
held,  and  Leonidas  recommended  all  the  allied  troops  under  his 
command  to  march  away  while  yet  the  way  was  open.  As  to 
hinself  and  his  Spartans,  they  had  made  up  their  minds  to  die 
at  their  post,  and  there  could  be  no  doubt  that  the  example  of 
such  a  resolution  would  do  more  to  save  Greece  than  their  best 
efforts  could  ever  do  if  they  were  careful  to  reserve  themselves 
for  another  occasion. 


THE  PASS  OF  THERMOPYLAE.  42l 

All  the  allies  consented  to  retreat,  except  the  eighty  men 
who  came  from  Mycsene  and  the  seven  hundred  Thespians,  who 
declared  that  they  would  not  desert  Leonidas.  There  were  also 
four  hundred  Thebans  who  remained ;  and  thus  the  whole  num- 
ber that  stayed  with  Leonidas  to  confront  tAVO  million  of  ene- 
mies were  fourteen  hundred  warriors,  besides  the  helots  or 
attendants  on  the  three  hundred  Spartans,  whose  number  is  not 
known,  but  there  was  probably  at  least  one  to  each.  Leonidas 
had  tAvo  kinsmen  in  the  camp,  like  himself  claiming  the  blood 
of  Hercules,  and  he  tried  to  save  them  by  giving  them  letters 
and  messages  to  Sparta;  but  one  answered  that  "he  had  come 
to  fight,  not  to  carry  letters ; "  and  the  other,  that  "  his  deeds 
would  tell  all  that  Sparta  wished  to  know."  Another  Spartan, 
named  Dienices,  when  told  that  the  enemy's  archers  were  so 
numerous  that  their  arrows  darkened  the  sun,  replied,  "  So 
much  the  better,  we  shall  fight  in  the  shade."  Two  of  the  three 
hundred  had  been  sent  to  a  neighboring  village,  suffering 
severely  from  a  complaint  in  the  eyes.  One  of  them,  called 
Eurytus,  put  on  his  armor,  and  commanded  his  helot  to  lead 
him  to  his  place  in  the  ranks ;  the  other,  called  Aristodemus, 
was  so  overpowered  with  illness  that  he  allowed  himself  to  be 
carried  av/ay  with  the  retreating  allies.  It  was  still  early  in 
the  day  when  all  were  gone,  and  Leonidas  gave  the  word  to  his 
men  to  take  their  last  meal.  "To-night,"  he  said,  "we  shall 
sup  with  Pluto." 

Hitherto,  he  had  stood  on  the  defensive,  and  had  husbanded 
the  lives  of  his  men  ;  but  he  now  desired  to  make  as  great 
a  slaughter  as  possible,  so  as  to  inspire  the  enemy  with  dread 
of  the  Grecian  name.  He  therefore  marched  out  beyond  the 
wall,  without  waiting  to  be  attacked,  and  the  battle  began. 
The  Persian  captains  went  behind  their  wretched  troops  and 
scourged  them  on  to  the  fight  with  whips  !  Poor  v/retches, 
they  v/ere  driven  on  to  be  slaughtered,  pierced  with  the  Greek 
spears,  hurled  into  the  sea,  or  trampled  into  the  mud  of  the 
morass  ;  but  their  inexhaustible  numbers  told  at  length.  The 
spears  of  the  Greeks  broke  under  hard  service,  and  their  swords 
alone  remained  ;  they  began  to  fall,  and  Leonidas  himself  was 
among  the  first  of  the  slain.  Hotter  than  ever  was  the  fight 
over  his  corpse,  and  two  Persian  princes,  brothers  of  Xerxes, 
were  there  killed ;  but  at  length  word  was  brought  that  Hy- 
darnes  was  over  the  pass,  and  that  the  few  remaining  men  were 
thus  inclosed  on  all  sides.     The  Spartans  and  Thespians  made 


422  THE  PASS  OF  THERMOPYL^. 

their  way  to  a  little  hillock  within  the  wall,  resolved  to  let  this 
be  the  place  of  their  last  stand  ;  but  the  hearts  of  the  Thebans 
failed  them,  and  they  came  towards  the  Persians  holding  out 
their  hands  in  entreaty  for  mercy.  Quarter  was  given  to  them, 
but  they  were  all  branded  with  the  king's  mark  as  untrust- 
worthy deserters.  The  helots  probably  at  this  time  escaped 
into  the  mountains ;  while  the  small  desperate  band  stood  side 
by  side  on  the  hill  still  fighting  to  the  last,  some  with  swords, 
others  with  daggers,  others  even  with  their  hands  and  teeth,  till 
not  one  living  man  remained  amongst  them  when  the  sun  went 
down.     There  was  only  a  mound  of  slain,  bristled  over  with 

arrows. 

Twenty  thousand  Persians  had  died  before  that  handful  of 
men !  Xerxes  asked  Demaratus  if  there  were  many  more  at 
Sparta  like  these,  and  was  told  there  were  eight  thousand.  It 
must  have  been  with  a  somewhat  failing  heart  that  he  invited  his 
courtiers  from  the  fleet  to  see  what  he  had  done  to  the  men  who 
dared  to  oppose  him  !  and  showed  them  the  head  and  arm  of 
Leonidas  set  up  upon  a  cross  ;  but  he  took  care  that  all  his  own 
slain,  except  one  thousand,  should  first  be  put  out  of  sight.  The 
body  of  the  brave  king  was  buried  where  he  fell,  as  were  those 
of  the  other  dead.  Much  envied  were  they  by  the  unhappy 
Aristodemus,  who  found  himself  called  by  no  name  but  the 
"  Coward,"  and  was  shunned  by  all  his  fellow-citizens.  No  one 
would  give  him  fire  or  water,  and  after  a  year  of  misery,  he  re- 
deemed his  honor  by  perishing  in  the  forefront  of  the  battle  of 
Plat^ea,  which  was  the  last  blow  that  drove  the  Persians  in- 
gloriously  from  Greece. 

The  Greeks  then  united  in  doing  honor  to  the  brave  war- 
riors who,  had  they  been  better  supported,  might  have  saved 
the  whole  country  from  invasion.  The  poet  Simonides  wrote 
the  inscriptions  that  were  engraved  upon  the  pillars  that  were 
set  up  in  the  pass  to  commemorate  this  great  action.  One  was 
outside  the  wall,  where  most  of  the  fighting  had  been.  It 
seems  to  have  been  in  honor  of  the  whole  number  who  had  for 
two  days  resisted  — 

Here  did  four  thousand  men  from  Pelops'  land 
Against  three  hundred  myriads  bravely  stand. 

In  honor  of  the  Spartans  was  another  column  — 

Go,  traveler,  to  Sparta  tell 
That  here,  obeying  her,  we  fell. 


THE  SPARTANS  AND  THE  LAWS  OF  LYCURGUS.  42^ 

On  the  little  hillock  of  the  last  resistance  was  placed  the 
figure  of  a  stone  lion,  in  memory  of  Leonidas,  so  fitly  named 
the  lionlike  ;  and  Simonides,  at  his  own  expense,  erected  a  pil- 
lar to  his  friend,  the  seer  Megistias  — 

The  great  Megistias'  tomb  you  here  may  view, 
Who  slew  the  Medes,  fresh  from  Spercheius  fords; 
Well  the  wise  seer  the  coming  death  foreknew, 
Yet  scorned  he  to  forsake  his  Spartan  lords. 

The  names  of  the  three  hundred  were  likewise  engraven  on 
a  pillar  at  Sparta. 

Lion,  pillars,  and  inscriptions  have  all  long  since  passed 
away,  even  the  very  spot  itself  has  changed  ;  new  soil  has  been 
formed,  and  there  are  miles  of  solid  ground  between  Mount 
(Eta  and  the  gulf,  so  that  the  Hot  Gates  no  longer  exist.  But 
more  enduring  than  stone  or  brass  —  nay,  than  the  very  battle- 
field itself  —  has  been  the  name  of  Leonidas.  Two  thousand 
three  hundred  years  have  sped  since  he  braced  himself  to  perish 
for  his  country's  sake  in  that  narrow,  marshy  coast  road,  under 
the  brow  of  the  wooded  crags,  with  the  sea  by  his  side.  Since 
that  time  how  many  hearts  have  glowed,  how  many  arms  have 
been  nerved,  at  the  remembrance  of  the  Pass  of  Thermopylse, 
and  the  defeat  that  was  worth  so  much  more  than  a  victory  ! 


THE  SPARTANS  AND  THE  LAWS  OF  LYCURGUS. 

By  CHARLES  ROLLIN. 
(For  biographical  sketch,  see  page  65.)    ■ 

The  Division  of  the  Lands,  and  the  Prohibition  of 
Gold  and  Sn^vER  Money. 

The  boldest  institution  of  Lycurgus  was  the  division  of  the 
lands,  which  he  looked  upon  as  absolutely  necessary  for  estab- 
lishing peace  and  good  order  in  the  commonwealth.  The 
major  part  of  the  people  were  so  poor  that  they  had  not  one 
inch  of  land  of  their  own,  while  a  small  number  of  particular 
persons  were  possessed  of  all  the  lands  and  wealth  of  the 
country,  in  order,  therefore,  to  banish  insolence,  envy,  fraud, 


424       THE  SPARTANS  AND  THE  LAWS  OF  LYCURGUS. 

luxury,  and  two  other  distempers  of  the  state  still  greater  and. 
more  ancient  than  these,  I  mean  extreme  poverty  and  excessive 
wealth,  he  persuaded  the  citizens  to  give  up  all  their  lands  to 
the  commonwealth,  and  to  make  a  new  division  of  them,  that 
they  might  all  live  together  in  a  perfect  equality,  and  that  no 
preeminence  or  honors  should  be  given,  but  to  virtue  and 
merit  alone. 

After  having  divided  their  immovables,  he  undertook  like- 
wise to  make  the  same  equal  division  of  all  their  movable  goods 
and  chattels,  that  he  might  utterly  banish  from  among  them  all 
manner  of  inequality.  But,  perceiving  that  this  would  be  more 
difficult  if  he  went  openly  about  it,  he  endeavored  to  effect  it 
by  sapping  the  very  foundations  of  avarice.  For,  first,  he  cried 
down  all  gold  and  silver  money,  and  ordained  that  no  other 
should  be  current  than  that  of  iron,  which  he  made  so  very 
heavy,  and  fixed  at  so  low  a  rate,  that  a  cart  and  two  oxen  were 
necessary  to  carry  home  a  sum  of  ten  minse,  and  a  whole  chamber 
to  keep  it  in. 

The  next  thing  he  did,  was  to  banish  all  useless  and  super- 
fluous arts  from  Sparta.  But  if  he  had  not  done  this,  most  of 
them  would  have  sunk  of  themselves,  and  disappeared  with  the 
gold  and  silver  money;  because  the  tradesmen  and  artificers 
would  have  found  no  vent  for  their  commodities,  and  tliis  iron 
money  had  no  currency  among  any  other  Grecian  states,  who 
were  so  far  from  esteeming  it,  that  it  became  the  subject  of 
their  banter  and  ridicule. 

Of  Public  Meals. 

Lycurgus,  being  desirous  to  make  a  yet  more  effectual  war 
upon  effeminacy  and  luxury,  and  utterly  to  extirpate  the  love 
of  riches,  made  a  third  regulation,  which  was  that  of  public 
meals.  That  he  might  entirely  suppress  all  the  magnificence 
and  extravagance  of  expensive  tables,  he  ordained  that  all  the 
citizens  should  eat  together,  of  the  same  common  victuals  which 
the  law  prescribed,  and  expressly  forbade  all  private  eating  at 
their  own  houses. 

By  this  settlement  of  public  and  common  meals,  and  this 
frugality  and  simplicity  in  eating,  it  may  be  said  that  he  made 
riches  in  some  measure  change  their  very  nature,  by  putting 
them  out  of  a  condition  of  being  desired  or  stolen,  or  of  enrich- 
ing their  possessors;  for  there  was  no  v.-ay  left  for  a  man  to  use 


THE  SPAllTANS  AND   THE   LAWS  OF  LYCURGUS.     425 

or  enjoy  this  opulence,  or  even  to  make  any  show  of  it,  since 
the  poor  and  the  rich  ate  together  in  the  same  place,  and  none 
were  allowed  to  appear  at  the  public  eating  rooms,  after  having 
taken  care  to  fill  themselves  with  other  diet;  because  everybody 
present  took  particular  notice  of  any  one  that  did  not  eat  or 
drink,  and  the  whole  company  was  sure  to  reproach  him  with 
the  delicacy  and  intemperance  that  made  him  despise  the 
common  food  and  public  table. 

The  rich  were  extremely  enraged  at  this  regulation ;  and  it 
v/as  upon  this  occasion  that,  in  a  tumult  of  the  people,  a  young 
man  named  Alexander  struck  out  one  of  the  eyes  of  Lycurgus. 
The  people,  provoked  at  such  an  outrage,  delivered  the  young 
man  into  Lycurgus'  hands,  who  knew  how  to  revenge  himself 
in  a  proper  manner;  for,  by  the  extraordinary  kindness  and 
gentleness  with  which  he  treated  him,  he  made  the  violent  and 
hot-headed  young  man  in  a  little  time  become  very  moderate 
and  wise.  The  tables  consisted  of  about  fifteen  persons  each, 
where  none  could  be  admitted  but  with  the  consent  of  the  whole 
company.  Each  person  furnished,  every  month,  a  bushel  of 
flour,  eight  measures  of  wine,  five  pounds  of  cheese,  two  pounds 
and  a  half  of  figs,  and  a  small  sum  of  money,  for  preparing  and 
cooking  the  victuals.  Every  one,  without  exception  of  per- 
sons, was  obliged  to  be  at  the  common  meal ;  and  a  long  time 
after  the  making  of  these  regulations,  king  Agis,  at  his  return 
from  a  glorious  expedition,  having  taken  the  liberty  to  dispense 
with  that  law,  in  order  to  eat  with  the  queen  his  wife,  was 
reprimanded  and  punished. 

The  very  children  ate  at  these  public  tables,  and  v/ere  carried 
thither  as  to  a  school  of  wisdom  and  temperance.  There  they 
were  sure  to  hear  grave  discourses  upon  government,  and  to 
see  nothing  but  what  tended  to  their  instruction  and  improve- 
ment. The  conversation  was  often  enlivened  with  ingenious 
and  sprightly  raillery,  but  never  mixed  with  anything  vulgar 
or  shocking;  and  if  their  jesting  seemed  to  make  any  person 
uneas}'-,  they  never  proceeded  any  farther.  Here  their  children 
were  likewise  trained  up  and  accustomed  to  great  secrecy;  as 
soon  as  a  young  man  came  into  the  dining  room,  the  oldest 
person  of  the  company  used  to  sa)''  to  him,  pointing  to  the  door: 
"Nothing  spoken  here  must  ever  go  out  there." 

The  most  exquisite  of  all  their  eatables  was  what  they  called 
their  black  broth,  and  the  old  men  preferred  it  before  all  that 
v;as  set  upon  the  table.     Dionysius  the  tyrant,  when  he  was  at 


426      THE   SPARTANS   AND    i'lihJ   LAWS   OF   LYCURGUS. 

one  of  those  meals,  was  not  of  the  same  opinion,  and  what  was 
a  ragout  to  them,  was  to  him  very  insipid.  I  do  not  wonder, 
said  the  cook,  for  the  seasoning  is  wanting.  What  seasoning? 
replied  the  tyrant.  Running,  sweating,  fatigue,  hunger,  and 
thirst;  these  are  the  ingredients,  said  the  cook,  with  which  we 
season  all  our  food. 

Other  Ordinances. 

He  looked  upon  the  education  of  youth  as  the  greatest  and 
most  important  object  of  a  legislator's  care.  His  grand  prin- 
ciple was,  that  children  belonged  more  to  the  state  than  to 
tlieir  parents;  and  therefore  he  would  not  have  them  brought 
up  according  to  their  humors  and  fancies,  but  would  have  the 
state  intrusted  with  the  general  care  of  their  education,  in 
order  to  have  them  formed  upon  constant  and  uniform  princi- 
ples, which  might  inspire  them  betimes  with  the  love  of  their 
country  and  virtue. 

As  soon  as  a  boy  was  born,  the  elders  of  each  tribe  visited 
him;  and  if  they  found  him  well  made,  strong,  and  vigorous, 
they  ordered  him  to  be  brought  up,  and  assigned  him  one  of 
the  nine  thousand  portions  of  land  for  his  inheritance;  if,  on 
the  contrary,  they  found  him  to  be  deformed,  tender,  and 
weakly,  so  that  they  could  not  expect  that  he  would  ever  have 
a  strong  and  healthful  constitution,  they  condemned  him  to 
perish,  and  caused  the  infant  to  be  exposed. 

Children  were  accustomed  betimes  not  to  be  nice  or  difficult 
in  their  eating ;  not  to  be  afraid  in  the  dark,  or  when  they  were 
left  alone;  not  to  give  themselves  up  to  peevishness  and  ill 
humor,  to  crying  and  bawling;  to  walk  barefoot,  that  they 
might  be  inured  to  fatigue ;  to  lie  hard  at  nights ;  to  wear  the 
same  clothes  winter  and  summer,  in  order  to  harden  them 
against  cold  and  heat. 

At  the  age  of  seven  years  they  were  put  into  the  classes, 
where  the}^  were  all  brought  up  together  under  the  same  dis- 
cipline. Their  education,  properly  speaking,  was  only  an 
apprenticeship  of  obedience.  The  legislature  having  rightly 
considered  that  the  surest  way  to  have  citizens  submissive  to 
the  law  and  to  the  magistrates,  in  which  the  good  order  and 
happiness  of  a  state  chiefly  consists,  was  to  teach  children  early, 
and  to  accustom  them  from  their  tender  years  to  be  perfectly 
obedient  to  their  masters  and  superiors. 

While  they  were  at  table,  it  was  usual  for  the  masters  to 


THE  SPARTANS  AND  THE  LAWS  OF  LYCURt^US.     427 

instruct  the  boys  by  proposing  them  questions.  They  would 
ask  them,  for  example,  Who  is  the  most  ]ionest  man  in  the 
town  ?  What  do  you  think  of  such  or  such  an  action  ?  The 
boys  Avere  obliged  to  give  a  quick  and  ready  answer,  which 
was  also  to  be  accompanied  with  a  reason  and  a  proof,  both 
expressed  in  a  few  words:  for  they  were  accustomed  betimes  to 
the  Laconic  style,  that  is,  to  a  close  and  concise  way  of  speak- 
ing and  writing.  Lycurgus  was  for  having  the  money  bulky, 
heavy,  and  of  little  value,  and  their  language,  on  the  contrary, 
very  pithy  and  short;  a  great  deal  of  sense  comprised  in  a  few 
words. 

As  for  literature,  they  only  learned  as  much  as  was  necessary. 
All  the  sciences  were  banished  out  of  their  country;  their  study 
only  tended  to  know  how  to  obey,  to  bear  hardship  and  fatigue, 
and  to  conquer  in  battle.  The  superintendent  of  their  educa- 
tion was  one  of  the  most  honorable  men  of  the  city,  and  of  the 
first  rank  and  condition,  who  appointed  over  every  class  of 
boys  masters  of  the  most  approved  wisdom  and  probity. 

There  was  one  kind  of  theft  only,  and  that  too  more  a 
nominal  than  a  real  one,  which  the  boys  were  allowed,  and 
even  ordered  to  practice.  They  were  taught  to  slip,  as  cun- 
ningly and  cleverly  as  they  could,  into  the  gardens  and  public 
halls,  in  order  to  steal  away  herbs  and  meat ;  and  if  they  were 
caught  in  the  fact,  they  were  punished  for  their  want  of  dex- 
terity. We  are  told  of  one  who,  having  stolen  a  young  fox, 
hid  it  under  his  robe,  and  suffered  the  animal  to  gnaw  into  his 
belly,  and  tear  out  his  very  bowels,  till  he  fell  dead  upon  the 
spot,  rather  than  be  discovered.  This  kind  of  theft,  as  I  have 
said,  was  but  nominal,  and  not  properly  a  robbery;  since  it 
was  authorized  by  the  law  and  the  consent  of  the  citizens. 
The  intent  of  the  legislature  in  allowing  it,  was  to  inspire  the 
Spartan  youth,  who  were  all  designed  for  war,  with  the  greater 
boldness,  cunning,  and  address ;  to  inure  them  betimes  to  the 
life  of  a  soldier;  to  teach  them  to  live  upon  a  little,  and  to  be 
able  to  shift  for  themselves.  But  I  have  already  given  an 
account  of  this  matter,  more  at  large,  in  another  treatise. 

The  patience  and  constancy  of  the  Spartan  youth  most  con- 
spicuously appeared  in  a  certain  festival,  celebrated  in  honor 
of  Diana,  surnamed  Orthia,  where  the  children,  before  the  eyes 
of  their  parents,  and  in  presence  of  the  whole  cit5%  suffered 
themselves  to  be  whipped  till  the  blood  ran  down  upon  the 
altar  of  this  cruel  goddess,  where  sometimes  they  expired  under 


428  THE  SPARTANS  AND  THE  LAWS  OF   LYCURGUS. 

tlie  strokes,  and  all  this  without  uttering  the  least  cry,  or  so 
much  as  a  groan  or  sigh ;  and  even  their  own  fathers,  when  they 
saw  them  covered  with  blood  and  wounds,  and  ready  to  expire, 
exhorted  them  to  persevere  to  the  end  with  constancy  and  reso- 
lution. Plutarch  assures  us  that  he  had  seen  with  his  own 
eyes  a  great  many  children  lose  their  lives  on  these  cruel 
occasions. 

Tlie  most  usual  occupation  of  the  Lacedaemonians  was  hunt- 
ing, and  other  bodily  exercises.  They  were  forbid  to  exercise 
any  mechanic  art.  The  Elotae,  who  were  a  sort  of  slaves,  tilled 
their  land  for  them,  for  which  they  paid  them  a  certain  revenue. 

Lycurgus  would  have  his  citizens  enjo}'  a  great  deal  of  lei- 
sure; they  had  large  common  halls,  where  the  people  used  to 
meet  to  converse  together:  and  though  their  discourses  chiefly 
turned  upon  grave  and  serious  topics,  yet  they  seasoned  them 
with  a  mixture  of  wit  and  facetious  humor,  both  agreeable  and 
instructive.  They  passed  little  of  their  time  alone,  being- 
accustomed  to  live  like  bees,  always  together,  always  about 
their  chiefs  and  leaders.  The  love  of  their  country  and  of  the 
public  good  was  their  predominant  passion;  they  did  not 
imagine  they  belonged  to  themselves,  but  to  their  country. 
Pedaretus  having  missed  the  honor  of  being  chosen  one  of  the 
three  hundred  who  had  a  certain  rank  of  distinction  in  the  city, 
went  home  extremel}''  pleased  and  satisfied,  saying  he  "was 
overjoyed  there  were  three  hundred  men  in  Sparta  more  honor- 
able and  worthy  than  himself." 

At  Sparta  everything  tended  to  inspire  the  love  of  virtue 
and  the  hatred  of  vice ;  the  actions  of  the  citizens,  their  con- 
versations, public  monuments,  and  inscriptions.  It  was  hard 
for  men  brought  up  in  the  midst  of  so  many  living  precepts 
and  examples  not  to  become  virtuous,  as  far  as  heathens  were 
capable  of  virtue.  It  was  to  preserve  these  happy  dispositions, 
that  Lycurgus  did  not  allow  all  sorts  of  persons  to  travel,  lest 
they  should  bring  home  foreign  manners,  and  return  infected 
v/ith  the  licentious  customs  of  other  countries,  which  would 
necessarily  create,  in  a  little  time,  an  aversion  for  the  life  and 
maxims  of  Lacedajraon.  On  the  other  hand,  he  would  suffer 
no  strangers  to  remain  in  the  city,  who  did  not  come  thither  to 
some  useful  and  profitable  end,  but  out  of  mere  curiosity;  being 
afraid  they  should  bring  along  with  them  the  defects  and  vices 
of  their  own  countries ;  and  being  persuaded,  at  the  same  time, 
that  it  was  more  important  and  necessary  to  shut  the  gates  of 


THE   SPAKTANS   AND  THE  LAWS  OF  LYCURGUS.     429 

the  town  against  depraved  and  corrupt  manners,  than  against 
infections  distempers.  Properly  speaking,  the  very  trade  and 
business  of  the  Lacedaemonians  was  war:  everything  v/ith  them 
tended  that  way :  arms  were  their  only  exercise  and  employ- 
ment: their  life  was  much  less  hard  and  austere  in  the  camp 
than  in  the  city ;  and  they  were  the  only  people  in  the  world 
to  whom  the  time  of  war  was  a  time  of  ease  and  refreshment, 
because  then  the  reins  of  that  strict  and  severe  discipline,  which 
prevailed  at  Sparta,  were  somewhat  relaxed,  and  the  men  were 
indulged  in  a  little  more  liberty.  With  them  the  first  and 
most  inviolable  law  of  war,  as  Demaratus  told  Xerxes,  was 
never  to  fly,  or  turn  their  backs,  whatever  superiority  of  num- 
bers the  enemy's  army  might  consist  of;  never  to  quit  their 
post;  never  to  deliver  up  their  arms;  in  a  word,  either  to  con- 
quer or  to  die  on  the  spot.  This  maxim  was  so  important  and 
essential  in  their  opinion,  that  when  the  poet  Archilochus  came 
to  Sparta,  they  obliged  him  to  leave  their  city  immediately; 
because  they  understood  that,  in  one  of  his  poems,  he  had  said, 
"  It  was  better  for  a  man  to  throw  down  his  arms  than  to  expose 
himself  to  be  killed." 

Hence  it  is,  that  a  mother  recommended  to  her  son,  who  was 
going  to  make  a  campaign,  that  he  should  return  either  with 
or  upon  his  shield;  and  that  another,  hearing  that  her  son  was 
killed  in  fighting  for  his  country,  answered  very  coldly,  "I 
brought  him  into  the  Avorld  for  no  other  end."  This  humor 
was  general  among  the  Lacedaemonians.  After  the  famous 
battle  of  Leuctra,  which  was  so  fatal  to  the  Spartans,  the 
parents  of  those  that  died  in  the  action  congratulated  each 
other  upon  it,  and  went  to  the  temples  to  thank  the  gods  that 
their  children  had  done  their  duty;  whereas  the  relations  of 
those  who  survived  the  defeat  v/ere  inconsolable.  If  any  of  the 
Spartans  fled  in  battle,  they  were  dishonored  and  disgraced  for- 
ever. They  were  not  only  excluded  from  all  posts  and  employ- 
ments in  the  state,  from  all  assemblies  and  public  diversions, 
but  it  was  thought  scandalous  to  make  any  alliances  with  them 
by  marriage,  and  a  thousand  affronts  and  insults  were  publicly 
offered  them  with  impunity. 


430  GREEK  MYTHS. 

GREEK  MYTHS.  1 

By  JOHN  RUSKIN. 

(From  "  The  Queen  of  the  Air.") 

[John  Ruskin  :  English  critic  and  essayist ;  boru  at  London,  February  8,  1819. 
lu  1839  he  took  the  Newdigate  prize  for  a  poem.  During  his  Oxford  days  he 
published  many  verses  over  the  signature  "J.  R."  In  1850  his  poems  were  col- 
lected and  privately  printed.  A  reprint  was  made  of  them  in  New  York  in  1882. 
He  studied  art,  but  rather  for  the  purposes  of  criticism.  In  1843  appeared  the 
first  part  of  "Modern  Painters,"  which  was  a  vehement  eulogy  of  J.  M.  W. 
Turner;  the  last  volume  in  1856.  "The  Seven  Lamps  of  Architecture,"  1849, 
and  "  The  Stones  of  Venice,"  1851-1853,  are  his  best-known  works.  Among  his 
popular  lectures  have  been  "  Munera  Pulveris,"  1862-1863  ;  "  Sesame  and  Lilies," 
1865  ;  "  Crown  of  Wild  Olive,"  1866  ;  and  "  The  Queen  of  the  Air,"  1869.  His 
works  include  dozens  of  other  titles  on  artistic,  social,  and  economic  subjects. 
His  "  Praeterita,"  1885,  is  autobiographical.] 

1.  I  WILL  not  ask  your  pardon  for  endeavoring  to  interest 
you  in  the  subject  of  Greek  Mythology  ;  but  I  must  ask  your 
permission  to  approach  it  in  a  temper  differing  from  that  in 
which  it  is  frequently  treated.  We  cannot  justly  interpret  the 
religion  of  any  people,  unless  we  are  prepared  to  admit  that  we 
ourselves,  as  Avell  as  they,  are  liable  to  error  in  matters  of 
faith ;  and  that  the  convictions  of  others,  however  singular, 
may  in  some  points  have  been  well  founded ;  while  our  own, 
however  reasonable,  may  in  some  j)articulars  be  mistaken.  You 
must  forgive  me,  therefore,  for  not  always  distinctive!}^  calling 
the  creeds  of  the  past  "  superstition,"  and  the  creeds  of  the  pres- 
ent day  "religion"  ;  as  well  as  for  assuming  that  a  faith  now 
confessed  may  sometimes  be  superficial,  and  that  a  faith  long 
forgotten  may  once  have  been  sincere.  It  is  the  task  of  the 
Divine  to  condemn  the  errors  of  antiquity,  and  of  the  philolo- 
gists to  account  for  them ;  I  will  only  pray  you  to  read,  with 
patience,  and  human  sympathy,  the  thoughts  of  men  who  lived 
without  blame  in  a  darkness  they  could  not  dispel ;  and  to 
remember  that,  whatever  charge  of  folly  may  justly  attach  to 
the  saying,  "The.e  is  no  God,"  the  folly  is  prouder,  deeper, 
and  less  pardonable,  in  saying,  "There  is  no  God  but  for  me." 

2.  A  myth,  in  its  simplest  definition,  is  a  story  with  a  mean- 
ing attached  to  it  other  than  it  seems  to  have  at  first ;  and  the 
fact  that  it  has  such  a  meaning  is  generally  marked  by  some  of 
its  circumstances  being  extraordinary,  or,  in  the  common  use 
of  the  word,  unnatural.     Thus  if  I  tell  you  that  Hercules  killed 

'  By  ppriuission  of  Mv.  Geo.  Allen,     (down  8vo,,  price  .')-•.) 


Q 
O 
O 

< 

pq 

O 

W 

I— I 
Ui 

en 


GREEK  MYTHS.  431 

a  water  serpent  in  the  lake  of  Lerna,  and  if  I  mean,  and  you 
understand,  nothing  more  than  that  fact,  the  story,  whether 
true  or  false,  is  not  a  myth.  But  if  by  telling  you  this,  I  mean 
that  Hercules  purified  the  stagnation  of  many  streams  from 
deadly  miasmata,  my  story,  however  simple,  is  a  true  myth ; 
only,  as,  if  I  left  it  in  that  simplicity,  you  would  probably  look 
for  nothing  beyond,  it  will  be  wise  in  me  to  surprise  your 
attention  by  adding  some  singular  circumstance  ;  for  instance, 
that  the  water  snake  had  several  heads,  which  revived  as  fast 
as  they  were  killed,  and  which  poisoned  even  the  foot  that  trod 
upon  them  as  they  slept.  And  in  proportion  to  the  fullness  of 
intended  meaning  I  shall  probably  multiply  and  refine  upon 
these  improbabilities  ;  as,  suppose,  if,  instead  of  desiring  only 
to  tell  you  that  Hercules  purified  a  marsh,  I  wished  you  to 
understand  that  he  contended  with  the  venom  and  vapor  of 
envy  and  evil  ambition,  whether  in  other  men's  souls  or  in  his 
own,  and  choked  that  malaria  only  by  supreme  toil,  —  I  might 
tell  you  that  this  serpent  was  formed  by  the  goddess  whose 
pride  was  in  the  trial  of  Hercules  ;  and  that  its  place  of  abode 
was  by  a  palm  tree ;  and  that  for  every  head  of  it  that  was  cut 
off,  two  rose  up  with  renewed  life ;  and  that  the  hero  found  at 
last  he  could  not  kill  the  creature  at  all  by  cutting  its  heads 
off  or  crushing  them,  but  only  by  burning  them  down ;  and 
that  the  midmost  of  them  could  not  be  killed  even  that  way, 
but  had  to  be  buried  alive.  Only  in  proportion  as  I  mean 
more,  I  shall  certainly  appear  more  absurd  in  my  statement ; 
and  at  last  when  I  get  unendurably  significant,  all  practical 
persons  will  agree  that  I  was  talking  mere  nonsense  from  the 
beginning,  and  never  meant  anything  at  all. 

3.  It  is  just  possible,  however,  also,  that  the  story-teller 
may  all  along  have  meant  nothing  but  what  he  said  ;  and  that, 
incredible  as  the  events  may  appear,  he  himself  literally  be- 
lieved—  and  expected  you  also  to  believe  —  all  this  about  Her- 
cules, without  any  latent  moral  or  history  whatever.  And  it 
is  very  necessary,  in  reading  traditions  of  this  kind,  to  deter- 
mine, first  of  all,  whether  you  are  listening  to  a  simple  person, 
who  is  relating  what,  at  all  events,  he  believes  to  be  true  (and 
may,  therefore,  possibly  have  been  so  to  some  extent),  or  to  a 
reserved  philosopher,  who  is  veiling  a  theory  of  the  universe 
under  the  grotesque  of  a  fairy  tale.  It  is,  in  general,  more 
likely  that  the  first  supposition  should  be  the  right  one  :  simple 
and  credulous  persons  are,  perhaps  fortunately,  more  common 


432  GREEIv   MYTHS. 

tlum  philosophers  ;  and  it  is  of  the  highest  importance  that  you 
should  take  their  innocent  testimony  as  it  was  meant,  and  not 
efface,  under  the  graceful  explanation  which  your  cultivated 
ingenuity  may  suggest,  either  the  evidence  their  story  may 
contain  (such  as  it  is  worth)  of  an  extraordinary  event  having 
really  taken  place,  or  the  unquestionable  light  v/hich  it  will  cast 
upon  the  character  of  the  person  by  whom  it  was  frankly 
believed.  And  to  deal  with  Greek  religion  honestly,  you  must 
at  once  understand  that  this  literal  belief  was,  in  the  mind  of 
the  general  people,  as  deeply  rooted  as  ours  in  the  legends  of 
our  own  sacred  book  ;  and  that  a  basis  of  unmiraculous  event 
was  as  little  suspected,  and  an  explanatory  symbolism  as  rarely 
traced,  by  them,  as  by  us. 

You  must,  therefore,  observe  that  I  deeply  degrade  the 
position  which  such  a  myth  as  that  just  referred  to  occupied 
in  the  Greek  mind,  by  comparing  it  (for  fear  of  offending  you) 
to  our  story  of  St.  George  and  the  Dragon.  Still,  the  analogy 
is  perfect  in  minor  respects  ;  and  though  it  fails  to  give  you 
any  notion  of  the  vitally  religious  earnestness  of  the  Greek 
faith,  it  will  exactly  illustrate  the  manner  in  which  faith  laid 
hold  of  its  objects. 

4.  This  story  of  Hercules  and  the  Hydra,  then,  was  to  the 
general  Greek  mind,  in  its  best  days,  a  tale  about  a  real  hero 
and  a  real  monster.  Not  one  in  a  thousand  knew  anything  of 
the  way  in  which  the  story  had  arisen,  any  more  than  the  Eng- 
lish peasant  generally  is  aware  of  the  plebeian  original  of  St. 
George  ;  or  sup^Doses  that  there  were  once  alive  in  the  world, 
v/ith  sharp  teeth  and  claws,  real,  and  very  ugly,  flying  dragons. 
On  the  other  hand,  few  persons  traced  any  moral  or  symbolical 
meaning  in  the  story,  and  the  average  Greek  was  as  far  from 
imagining  any  interpretation  like  that  I  have  just  given  you,  as 
an  average  Englishman  is  from  seeing  in  St.  George  the  Red 
Cross  Knight  of  Spenser,  or  in  the  Dragon  the  Spirit  of  Infidel- 
ity. But,  for  all  that,  there  was  a  certain  undercurrent  of  con- 
sciousness in  all  minds  that  the  figures  meant  more  than  they 
at  first  showed  ;  and,  according  to  each  man's  own  faculties  of 
sentiment,  he  judged  and  read  them;  just  as  a  Knight  of  the 
Garter  reads  more  in  the  jewel  on  his  collar  than  the  George 
and  Dragon  of  a  public  house  expresses  to  the  host  or  to  his 
customers.  Thus,  to  the  mean  person  the  myth  always  meant 
little  ;  to  the  noble  person,  much  ;  and  the  greater  their  famil- 
iarity with  it,  the  more  contemptible  it  became  to  one,  and  the 


GREEK  MYTHS.  433 

more  sacred  to  the  other  ;  until  vulgar  commentators  explained 
it  entirely  away,  while  Virgil  made  it  the  crowning  glory  of  his 
choral  hymn  to  Hercules. 

Around  thee,  powerless  to  infect  thy  soul, 
Eose,  in  his  crested  crowd,  the  Lerna  worm. 

Non  te  rationis  egentem 
Lernseus  turba  capitum  circumstetit  anguis. 

And  although,  in  any  special  toil  of  the  hero's  life,  the  moral 
interpretation  was  rarely  with  definiteness  attached  to  its  event, 
yet  in  the  whole  course  of  the  life,  not  only  a  symbolical  mean- 
ing, but  the  warrant  for  the  existence  of  a  real  spiritual  power, 
was  apprehended  of  all  men.  Hercules  was  no  dead  hero,  to  be 
remembered  only  as  a  victor  over  monsters  of  the  past  —  harm- 
less now  as  slain.  He  was  the  perpetual  type  and  mirror  of 
heroism,  and  its  present  and  living  aid  against  every  ravenous 
form  of  human  trial  and  pain. 

5.  But,  if  we  seek  to  know  more  than  this  and  to  ascertain 
the  manner  in  which  the  story  first  crystallized  into  its  shape, 
we  shall  find  ourselves  led  back  generally  to  one  or  other  of 
two  sources  —  either  to  actual  historical  events,  represented  by 
the  fancy  under  figures  personifying  them  ;  or  else  to  natural 
phenomena  similarly  endowed  with  life  by  the  imaginative 
power  usually  more  or  less  under  the  influence  of  terror.  The 
historical  myths  we  must  leave  the  masters  of  history  to  follow  ; 
they,  and  the  events  they  record,  being  yet  involved  in  great, 
though  attractive  and  penetrable,  mystery.  But  the  stars,  and 
hills,  and  storms  are  with  us  now,  as  they  were  with  others  of 
old  ;  and  it  only  needs  that  we  look  at  them  with  the  earnest- 
ness of  those  childish  eyes  to  understand  the  first  words  spoken 
of  them  by  the  children  of  men,  and  then,  in  all  the  most  beauti- 
ful and  enduring  myths,  we  shall  find,  not  only  a  literal  story 
of  a  real  person,  not  only  a  parallel  imagery  of  moral  principle, 
but  an  underlying  worship  of  natural  phenomena,  out  of  which 
both  have  sprung,  and  in  which  both  forever  remain  rooted. 
Thus,  from  the  real  sun,  rising  and  setting,  —  from  the  real 
atmosphere,  calm  in  its  dominion  of  unfading  blue,  and  fierce  in 
its  descent  of  tempest, — the  Greek  forms  first  the  idea  of  two 
entirely  personal  and  corporeal  gods,  whose  limbs  are  clothed  in 
divine  flesh,  and  whose  brows  are  crowned  with  divine  beauty ; 

yet  so  real  that  the  quiver  rattles  at  their  shoulder,  and  the 
28 


434  GREEK  MYTHS. 

chariot  bends  benetith  Uieir  weiglit.  And,  on  the  other  hand, 
collaterally  with  these  corporeal  images,  and  never  for  one 
instant  separated  froro  them,  he  conceives  also  two  omnipresent 
spiritual  influences,  ot  which  one  illuminates,  as  the  sun,  with 
a  constant  fire,  whatever  in  humanity  is  skillful  and  wise ;  and 
the  other,  like  the  living  air,  breathes  the  calm  of  heavenly 
fortitude,  and  strength  of  righteous  anger,  into  every  human 
breast  that  is  pure  and  brave. 

6.  Now,  therefore,  in  nearly  every  myth  of  importance,  you 
have  to  discern  these  three  structural  parts,  —  the  root  and  the 
two  branches  :  the  root,  in  physical  existence,  sun,  or  sky,  or 
cloud,  or  sea ;  then  the  personal  incarnation  of  that,  becoming 
a  trusted  and  companionable  deity,  with  whom  you  may  walk 
hand  in  hand,  as  a  child  with  its  brother  or  its  sister ;  and, 
lastly,  the  moral  significance  of  the  image,  which  is  in  all  the 
great  myths  eternally  and  beneficently  true. 

7.  The  great  myths ;  that  is  to  say,  myths  made  by  great 
people.  For  the  first  plain  fact  about  myth  making  is  one 
which  has  been  most  strangely  lost  sight  of,  —  that  you  cannot 
make  a  myth  unless  you  have  something  to  make  it  of.  You 
cannot  tell  a  secret  which  you  don't  know.  If  the  myth  is 
about  the  sky,  it  must  have  been  made  by  somebody  who  had 
looked  at  the  sky.  If  the  myth  is  about  justice  and  fortitude, 
it  must  have  been  made  by  some  one  who  knew  what  it  was 
to  be  just  or  patient.  According  to  the  quantity  of  under- 
standing in  the  person  will  be  the  quantity  of  significance  in 
his  fable  ;  and  the  myth  of  a  simple  and  ignorant  race  must 
necessarily  mean  little,  because  a  simple  and  ignorant  race  have 
little  to  mean.  So  the  great  question  in  reading  a  story  is 
always,  not  what  wild  hunter  dreamed,  or  what  childish  race 
first  dreaded  it ;  but  what  wise  man  first  perfectly  told,  and 
what  strong  people  first  perfectly  lived  by  it.  And  the  real 
meaning  of  any  myth  is  that  which  it  has  at  the  noblest  age  of 
the  nation  among  whom  it  is  current.  The  farther  back  you 
pierce,  the  less  significance  you  will  find,  until  you  come  to  the 
first  narrow  thought,  which,  indeed,  contains  the  germ  of  the 
accomplished  tradition;  but  only  as  the  seed  contains  the  flower. 
As  the  intelligence  and  passion  of  the  race  develop,  they  cling 
to  and  nourish  their  beloved  and  sacred  legend  ;  leaf  by  leaf  it 
expands  under  the  touch  of  more  pure  affections,  and  more 
delicate  imagination,  until  at  last  the  perfect  fable  bourgeons 
out  into  symmetry  of  milky  stem  and  honeyed  bell. 


RUSKIN   IN    HIS   STUDY 


GREEK   MYTHS.  435 

8.  But  through  whatever  changefi  it  may  pass,  remember 
that  our  right  reading  of  it  is  wholly  dependent  on  the  mate- 
rials we  have  in  our  own  minds  for  an  intelligent  answering 
sympathy.  If  it  first  arose  among  a  people  who  dwelt  under 
stainless  skies,  and  measured  their  journeys  by  ascending  and 
declining  stars,  we  certainly  cannot  read  their  story,  if  we  have 
never  seen  anything  above  us  in  the  day  but  smoke,  nor  any- 
thing around  us  in  the  night  but  candles.  If  the  tale  goes  on 
to  change  clouds  or  planets  into  living  creatures,  —  to  invest 
them  with  fair  forms  and  inflame  them  with  mighty  passions, 
—  we  can  only  understand  the  story  of  the  human-hearted 
things,  in  so  far  as  we  ourselves  take  pleasure  in  the  perfect- 
ness  of  visible  form,  or  can  sympathize,  by  an  effort  of  imagina- 
tion, with  the  strange  people  who  had  other  loves  than  that  of 
wealth,  and  other  interests  than  those  of  commerce.  And,  lastly, 
if  the  myth  complete  itself  to  the  fulfilled  thoughts  of  the 
nation,  by  attributing  to  the  gods,  whom  they  have  carved  out 
of  their  fantasy,  continual  presence  with  their  own  souls  ;  and 
their  every  effort  for  good  is  finally  guided  by  the  sense  of  the 
companionship,  the  praise,  and  the  pure  will  of  immortals,  we 
shall  be  able  to  follow  them  into  this  last  circle  of  their  faith 
only  in  the  degree  in  which  the  better  parts  of  our  own  beings 
have  been  also  stirred  by  the  aspects  of  nature,  or  strengthened 
by  her  laws.  It  may  be  easy  to  prove  that  the  ascent  of  Apollo 
in  his  chariot  signifies  nothing  but  the  rising  of  the  sun.  But 
what  does  the  sunrise  itself  signify  to  us?  If  only  languid 
return  to  frivolous  amusement,  or  fruitless  labor,  it  will,  indeed, 
not  be  easy  for  us  to  conceive  the  power,  over  a  Greek,  of  the 
name  of  Apollo.  But  if,  for  us  also,  as  for  the  Greek,  the  sun- 
rise means  daily  restoration  to  the  sense  of  passionate  gladness 
and  of  perfect  life,  —  if  it  means  the  thrilling  of  new  strength 
through  every  nerve,  —  the  shedding  over  us  of  a  better  peace 
than  the  peace  of  night,  in  the  power  of  the  dawn,  —  and  the 
purging  of  evil  vision  and  fear  by  the  baptism  of  its  dew  ;  — if 
the  sun  itself  is  an  influence,  to  us  also,  of  spiritual  good  —  and 
becomes  thus  in  reality,  not  in  imagination,  to  us  also,  a  spirit- 
ual power, — we  may  then  soon  overpass  the  narrow  limit  of 
conception  which  kept  that  power  impersonal,  and  rise  with  the 
Greek  to  the  thought  of  an  angel  who  rejoiced  as  a  strong  man 
to  run  his  course,  whose  voice  calling  to  life  and  to  labor  rang 
round  the  earth,  and  whose  going  forth  was  to  the  ends  of 
heaven. 


436  THE  TRIUMPH   OF  BACCHUS. 

THE   TEIUMPH   OF   BACCHUS. 

By  JOHN  KEATS. 
(From  "  Endymion.") 

Beneath  my  palm  trees,  by  the  river  side, 
I  sat  a  weeping :  in  the  whole  world  wide 
There  was  no  one  to  ask  me  why  I  wept, — 

And  so  I  kept 
Brimming  the  water-lily  cups  with  tears 

Cold  as  my  fears. 

Beneath  my  palm  trees,  by  the  river  side, 
I  sat  a  weeping  ;  what  enamour'd  bride, 
Cheated  by  shadowy  wooer  from  the  clouds, 

But  hides  and  shrouds 
Beneath  dark  palm  trees  by  a  river  side  ? 

And  as  I  sat,  over  the  light  blue  hills 
There  came  a  noise  of  revellers  :  the  rills 
Into  the  wide  stream  came  of  purple  hue — 

'Twas  Bacchus  and  his  crew  ! 
The  earnest  trumpet  spake,  and  silver  thrills 
From  kissing  cymbals  made  a  merry  din — 

'Twas  Bacchus  and  his  kin  ! 
Like  to  a  moving  vintage  down  they  came. 
Crown 'd  with  green  leaves,  and  faces  all  on  flame  ; 
All  madly  dancing  through  the  pleasant  valley, 

To  scare  thee,  Melancholy  ! 
0  then,  0  then,  thou  wast  a  simple  name ! 
And  I  forgot  thee,  as  the  berried  holly 
By  shepherds  is  forgotten,  when,  in  June, 
Tall  chesnuts  keep  away  the  sun  and  moon  : — 

I  rush'd  into  the  folly  1 

"Within  his  car,  aloft,  young  Bacchus  stood, 
Trifling  his  ivy- dart,  in  dancing  mood. 

With  sidelong  laughing ; 
And  httle  rills  of  crimson  wine  imbru'd 
His  plump  white  arms,  and  shoulders,  enougii  white 

For  Venus'  pearly  bite  : 
And  near  him  rode  Silenus  on  his  ass. 
Pelted  with  flowers  as  he  on  did  pass 

Tipsily  quafiing. 


THE   TRIUMPH  OF  BACCHUS.  437 

"  Whence  came  ye,  merry  Damsels  !     whence  came  ye  ! 
So  many,  and  so  many,  and  such  glee  ? 
Why  have  ye  left  your  bowers  desolate  ; 

Your  lutes,  and  gentler  fate?  " — 
"  We  follow  Bacchus  !     Bacchus  on  the  wing, 

A  conquering ! 
Bacchus,  young  Bacchus  !  good  or  ill  betide, 
We  dance  before  him  through  kingdoms  wide  : — 
Come  hither,  lady  fair,  and  joined  be 

To  our  wild  minstrelsy  !  " 

"  Whence  came  ye,  jolly  Satyrs  !  whence  came  ye  ! 
So  many,  and  so  many,  and  such  glee  ? 
Why  have  ye  left  your  forest  haunts,  why  lefc 

Your  nuts  in  oak-tree  cleft  ?  " — 
"  For  wine,  for  wine  we  left  our  kernel  tree  ; 
For  wine  we  left  our  heath,  and  yellow  brooms. 

And  cold  mushrooms ; 
For  wine  we  follow  Bacchus  through  the  earth  ; 
Great  God  of  breathless  cups  and  chirping  mirth  !~ 
Come  hither,  lady  fair,  and  joined  be 

To  our  mad  minstrelsy  !  " 

Over  wide  streams  and  mountains  great  we  went, 
And,  save  when  Bacchus  kept  his  ivy  tent. 
Onward  the  tiger  and  the  leopard  pants, 

With  Asian  elephants : 
Onward  these  myriads — with  song  and  dance. 
With  zebras  striped,  and  sleek  Arabians'  prance, 
Web-footed  alligators,  crocodiles, 
Bearing  upon  their  scaly  backs,  in  files, 
Plump  infant  laughers  mimicking  the  coil 
Of  seamen,  and  stout  galley-rowers'  toil : 
With  toying  oars  and  silken  sails  they  glide, 

Nor  care  for  wind  and  tide. 

Mounted  on  panthers'  furs  and  lions'  manes, 
From  rear  to  van  they  scour  about  the  plains  ; 
A  three  days'  journey  in  a  moment  done  : 
And  always,  at  the  rising  of  the  sun, 
About  the  wilds  they  hunt  with  spear  and  horn, 
On  spleenful  unicorn. 

I  saw  Osirian  Egjrpt  kneel  adown 

Before  the  vine-wreath  crown ! 


488  HORATIUS. 

1  saw  parch'd  Abyssinia  rouse  and  sing 

To  the  silver  cymbals'  ring  ! 
I  saw  the  whelming  vintage  hotly  pierce 

Old  Tartary  the  fierce  ! 
The  kings  of  Ind  their  jewel-sceptres  vail, 
And  from  their  treasures  scatter  pearled  hail ; 
Great  Brahma  from  his  mystic  heaven  groans, 

And  all  his  priesthood  moans  ; 
Before  young  Bacchus'  eye-wink  turning  pale.- 
Into  these  regions  came  I  following  him, 
Sick-hearted,  weary — so  I  took  a  whim 
To  stray  away  into  these  forests  drear 

Alone,  without  a  peer  : 
And  I  have  told  thee  all  thou  mayest  hear. 


HORATIUS. 

By  THOMAS  BABINGTON  MACAULAY. 

[Thomas  Babington  Macaulay  :  An  Englisli  historian  and  essayist ;  born 
October  25,  1800 ;  son  of  a  noted  philanthropist  and  a  Quaker  lady ;  died  at 
London,  December  28,  1859.  He  was  educated  at  Trinity  College,  Cambridge, 
and  called  to  the  bar,  but  took  to  writing  for  the  periodicals  and  to  politics ; 
became  famous  for  historical  essays,  was  a  warm  advocate  of  Parliamentary 
Reform,  and  was  elected  to  Parliament  in  1830.  In  1834  he  was  made  a  member 
of  the  Supreme  Legislative  Council  for  India,  residing  there  till  1838,  and  making 
the  working  draft  of  the  present  Indian  Penal  Code.  He  was  Secretary  at  War 
in  1839.  The  first  two  volumes  of  his  "  History  of  England  "  were  published  in 
December,  1848.  His  fame  rests  even  more  on  his  historical  essays,  his  unsur- 
passed speeches,  and  his  "Lays  of  Ancient  Rome."] 

There  can  be  little  doubt  tliat  among  those  parts  of  early 
Eoman  history  which  had  a  poetical  origin  w^as  the  legend  of 
Horatius  Codes.  We  have  several  versions  of  the  story,  and 
these  versions  differ  from  each  other  in  points  of  no  small  im- 
portance. Polybius,  there  is  reason  to  believe,  heard  the  tale 
recited  over  the  remains  of  some  Consul  or  Praetor  descended 
from  the  old  Horatian  patricians;  for  he  introduces  it  as  a 
specimen  of  the  narratives  with  which  the  Romans  were  in  the 
habit  of  embellishing  their  funeral  oratory.  It  is  remarkable 
that,  according  to  him,  Horatius  defended  the  bridge  alone,  and 
perished  in  the  w^aters.  According  to  the  chronicles  which 
Livy  and  Dionysius  followed,  Horatius  had  two  companions, 
swam  safe  to  shore,  and  was  loaded  with  honors  and  rewards. 

These  discrepancies  are  easily  explained.     Our  own  litera- 


nnanuscript  of  ^boinas  Babinoton  flDacaula^, 
Xor^  nnacaula^. 

The  original  MS.,  as  sent  to  the  press,  of  the  article  on 
"  The  State  in  its  Relation  with  the  Church,"  by  W.  E.  Glad- 
stone, M.P.,  London,  18'39,  contributeil  to  tlie  Edinburgh  Re- 
view for  April,  1889.  The  first  page  only  is  represented.  In 
this  letter  Macaulay  writes : 

"  I  have  l)ought  Gladstone's  book  on  Chureh  and  State,  and  I  think- 
that  I  ean  make  a  good  artiele  on  it.  It  seems  to  me  the  very  thing  for 
a  spirited,  popular,  and  at  tlie  same  time  gentleman-like  critique." 

He  refers  to  the  article  again,  on  February  526,  as  follows: 

"  I  find  the  subject  grow  on  me.  I  think  I  shall  dispose  completely 
of  Gladstone's  theory.  I  wish  I  could  see  my  way  clearly  to  a  good 
counter  theory.  But  I  catch  glimpses  here  and  there  of  what  I  take  to 
be  truth.  .  .  .  By  the  bye,  I. met  Gladstone  at  Rome.  We  talked  and 
walked  together  in  St.  Peter's  during  the  best  part  of  an  afternoon;  and 
I  have  in  consequence  been  more  civil  to  him  personally  than  I  should 
otherwise  have  been.  He  is  both  a  clever  and  an  amiable  man  with  all 
his   fanaticism." 


[Vol.    II.   p.   4.38.] 


"^ 


<0  V 


^ 


v^.l:-  tc?  n 


On 
CO 

CO 


< 


o 

H 

O 
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O 


Q 

Q 


pq 


M- 


ASito 


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^^^-^-^ 


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,^..^^^ 


THOMAS    nABINGTON    MACAUI.AY,   ]S39. 

B.iT.  Mu..  Add.  Mi.  34,629,  I'.  1. 


HORATIUS.  439 

ture,  indeed,  will  furnish  an  exact  parallel  to  what  may  have 
taken  place  at  Rome.  It  is  highly  probable  that  the  memory 
of  the  war  of  Porsena  was  preserved  by  compositions  much 
resembling  the  two  ballads  which  stand  first  in  the  "  Relics  of 
Ancient  English  Poetry."  In  both  those  ballads  the  English, 
commanded  by  the  Percy,  fight  with  the  Scots,  commanded  by 
the  Douglas.  In  one  of  the  ballads  the  Douglas  is  killed  by  a 
nameless  English  archer,  and  the  Percy  by  a  Scottish  spearman : 
in  the  other,  the  Percy  slays  the  Douglas  in  single  combat,  and 
is  himself  made  prisoner.  In  the  former.  Sir  Hugh  Montgomery 
is  shot  through  the  heart  by  a  Northumbrian  bowman  :  in  the 
latter  he  is  taken,  and  exchanged  for  the  Percy.  Yet  both  the 
ballads  relate  to  the  same  event,  and  that  an  event  which  prob- 
ably took  place  within  the  memory  of  persons  who  were  alive 
when  both  the  ballads  were  made.    One  of  the  minstrels  says  :  — 

Old  men  that  knowen  the  grounde  well  yenoughe 

Call  it  the  battell  of  Otterbm-n : 

At  Otterburn  began  this  spume 

Upon  a  monnyn  day. 

Ther  was  the  dougghte  Doglas  siean : 

The  Perse  never  went  away. 

The  other  poet  sums  up  the  event  in  the  following  lines  :  — 

Thys  fraye  bygan  at  Otterborne 
Bytwene  the  nyghte  and  the  day : 
Ther  the  Dowglas  lost  hys  lyfe, 
And  the  Percy  was  lede  away. 

It  is  by  no  means  unlikely  that  there  were  two  old  Roman 
lays  about  the  defense  of  the  bridge ;  and  that,  while  the  story 
which  Livy  has  transmitted  to  us  was  preferred  by  the  multi- 
tude, the  other,  which  ascribed  the  whole  glory  to  Horatius 
alone,  may  have  been  the  favorite  with  the  Horatian  house. 

The  following  ballad  is  supposed  to  have  been  made  about  a 
hundred  and  twenty  years  after  the  war  which  it  celebrates,  and 
just  before  the  taking  of  Rome  by  the  Gauls.  The  author  seems 
to  have  been  an  honest  citizen,  proud  of  the  military  glory  of 
his  country,  sick  of  the  disputes  of  factions,  and  much  given  to 
pining  after  good  old  times  which  had  never  really  existed.  The 
allusion,  however,  to  the  partial  manner  in  which  the  public  lands 
were  allotted  could  proceed  only  from  a  plebeian ;  and  the  allu- 
sion to  the  fraudulent  sale  of  spoils  marks  the  date  of  the  poem, 
and  shows  that  the  poet  shared  in  the  general  discontent  with 


440  HORATIUS. 

whicli  the  proceedings  of  Camillus,  after  the  taking  of  Veii, 
were  regarded. 

Niebuhr's  supposition  that  each  of  the  three  defenders  of  the 
bridge  was  the  representative  of  one  of  the  three  patrician 
tribes  is  both  ingenious  and  probable,  and  has  been  adopted  in 
the  following  poem. 

HORATIUS. 

A   LAY   MADE   ABOUT   THE   TEAR   OF   THE   CITY   CCCLX. 


Lars  Porsena  of  Clusium 

By  the  Nine  Gods  he  swore 
That  the  great  house  of  Tarquin 

Should  suffer  wrong  no  more. 
By  the  Nine  Gods  he  swore  it, 

And  named  a  trysting  day, 
And  bade  his  messengers  ride  forth. 
East  and  west  and  south  and  north, 

To  summon  his  array. 

II. 

East  and  west  and  south  and  north 

The  messengers  ride  fast, 
And  tower  and  town  and  cottage 

Have  heard  the  trumpet's  blast. 
Shame  on  the  false  Etruscan 

Who  lingers  in  his  liome. 
When  Porsena  of  Clusium 

Is  on  the  march  for  Eome. 

III. 

The  horsemen  and  the  footmen 

Are  pouring  in  amain 
Erom  many  a  stately  market  place; 

From  many  a  fruitful  plain ; 
Erom  many  a  lonely  hamlet, 

Which,  hid  by  beech  and  pine. 
Like  an  eagle's  nest,  hangs  on  the  crest 

Of  purple  Apennine ; 

IV. 

From  lordly  Volaterrse, 

Where  scowls  the  far-famed  hold 


IIORATIUS.  441 


Piled  by  the  hands  of  giants 

For  godlike  kings  of  old ; 
From  seagirt  Popalonia, 

Whose  sentinels  descry 
Sardinia's  snowy  mountain  tops 

Fringing  the  southern  sky ; 

V. 

From  the  proud  mart  of  Pisae, 

Queen  of  the  western  waves, 
Where  ride  Massilia's  triremes 

Heavy  with  fair-haired  slaves ; 
From  where  sweet  Clanis  wanders 

Through  corn  and  vines  and  flowers ; 
From  where  Cortona  lifts  to  heaven 

Her  diadem  of  towers. 

VI. 

Tall  are  the  oaks  whose  acorns 

Drop  in  dark  Auser's  rill ; 
Fat  are  the  stags  that  champ  the  boughs 

Of  the  Ciminian  hill ; 
Beyond  all  streams  Clitumnus 

Is  to  the  herdsman  dear ; 
Best  of  all  pools  the  fowler  loves 

The  great  Volsinian  mere. 

VII. 

But  now  no  stroke  of  woodman 

Is  heard  by  Auser's  rill ; 
No  hunter  tracks  the  stag's  green  path 

Up  the  Ciminian  hill : 
Unwatched  along  Clitumnus 

Grazes  the  milk-white  steer ; 
Unharmed  the  waterfowl  may  dip 

In  the  Volsinian  mere. 

VIII. 

The  harvests  of  Arretium, 

This  year,  old  men  shall  reap, 
This  year,  young  boys  in  Umbro 

Shall  plunge  the  struggling  sheep ; 
And  in  the  vats  of  Luna, 

This  year,  the  must  shall  foam 
Eound  the  white  feet  of  laughing  girls 

Whose  sires  have  marched  to  Kome. 


442  HORATIUS. 

IX. 

There  be  thiity  chosen  prophets, 

The  wisest  of  the  land, 
Who  alway  by  Lars  Porsena 

Both  morn  and  evening  stand : 
Evening  and  morn  the  Thirty 

Have  turned  the  verses  o'er, 
Traced  from  the  right  on  linen  white 

By  mighty  seers  of  yore. 


And  with  one  voice  the  Thirty 

Have  their  glad  ansAver  given : 
"  Go  forth,  go  forth,  Lars  Porsena : 

Go  forth,  beloved  of  Heaven ; 
Go,  and  return  in  glory 

To  Clusium's  royal  dome ; 
And  hang  round  Nurscia's  altars 

The  golden  shields  of  Eome." 

XI. 

And  now  hath  every  city 

Sent  up  her  tale  of  men ; 
The  foot  are  fourscore  thousand, 

The  horse  are  thousands  ten. 
Before  the  gates  of  Sutrium 

Is  met  the  great  array. 
A  proud  man  was  Lars  Porsena 

Upon  the  trysting  day. 

XII. 

For  all  the  Etruscan  armies 

Were  ranged  beneath  his  eye, 
And  many  a  banished  Roman, 

And  many  a  stout  ally ; 
And  with  a  mighty  following 

To  join  the  muster  came 
The  Tusculan  Mamilius, 

Prince  of  the  Latian  name. 

XIII. 

But  by  the  yellow  Tiber 
Was  tumult  and  affright : 

Prom  all  the  spacious  champaign 
To  Eome  men  took  their  flight. 


HORATIUS.  443 


A  mile  around  the  city, 

The  throng  stopped  up  the  Avays ; 
A  fearful  sight  it  was  to  see 

Through  two  long  nights  and  day3» 

XIV. 

For  aged  folks  on  crutches, 

And  women  great  with  child, 
And  mothers  sobbing  over  babes 

That  clung  to  them  and  smiled, 
And  sick  men  borne  in  litters 

High  on  the  necks  of  slaves, 
And  troops  of  sunburned  husbandmen 

With  reaping  hooks  and  staves, 

XV. 

And  droves  of  mules  and  asses 

Laden  with  skins  of  wine, 
And  endless  flocks  of  goats  and  sheep, 

And  endless  herds  of  kine. 
And  endless  trains  of  wagons 

That  creaked  beneath  the  weight 
Of  corn  sacks  and  of  household  goods, 

Choked  every  roaring  gate. 

XVI. 

Now,  from  the  rock  Tarpeian, 

Could  the  wan  burghers  spy 
The  line  of  blazing  villages 

Ked  in  the  midnight  sky. 
The  Fathers  of  the  City, 

They  sat  all  night  and  day, 
For  every  hour  some  horseman  came 

With  tidings  of  dismay. 

XVII. 

To  eastward  and  to  westward 

Have  spread  the  Tuscan  bands ; 
Nor  house,  nor  fence,  nor  dovecote 

In  Crustumerium  stands. 
Verbenna  down  to  Ostia 

Hath  wasted  all  the  plain ; 
Astur  hath  stormed  Janiculum, 

And  the  stout  guards  are  slain. 


444  HORATIUS. 

XVIII. 

I  wis,  in  all  the  Senate, 

There  was  no  heart  so  bold, 
But  sore  it  ached,  and  fast  it  beat, 

When  that  ill  news  was  told. 
Forthwith  uprose  the  Consul, 

Uprose  the  Fathers  all ; 
In  haste  they  girded  up  their  gowns, 

And  hied  them  to  the  wall. 

XIX. 

They  held  a  council  standing 

Before  the  River  Gate ; 
Short  time  was  there,  ye  well  may  guess, 

For  musing  or  debate. 
Out  spake  the  Consul  roundly : 

**  The  bridge  must  straight  go  down  \ 
For,  since  Janiculum  is  lost. 

Naught  else  can  save  the  town." 

XX. 

Just  then  a  scout  came  flying, 

All  wild  with  haste  and  fear : 
"  To  arms  !  to  arms !  Sir  Consul : 

Lars  Porsena  is  here." 
On  the  low  hills  to  westward 

The  Consul  fixed  his  eye. 
And  saw  the  swarthy  storm  of  dust 

Rise  fast  along  the  sky. 

XXI. 

And  nearer  fast  and  nearer 

Doth  the  red  whirlwind  come ; 
And  louder  still  and  still  more  loud, 
From  underneath  that  rolling  cloud, 
Is  heard  the  trumpet's  war  note  proudj 

The  trampling,  and  the  hum. 
And  plainly  and  more  plainly 

Now  through  the  gloom  appears, 
Far  to  left  and  far  to  right. 
In  broken  gleams  of  dark  blue  light. 
The  long  array  of  helmets  bright, 

The  long  array  of  spears. 


HORATIUS.  445 

XXII. 

And  plainly  and  more  plainly, 

Above  that  glimmering  line, 
Now  might  ye  see  the  banners 

Of  twelve  fair  cities  shine ; 
Bnt  the  banner  of  proud  Clusium 

Was  highest  of  them  all, 
The  terror  of  the  Umbrian, 

The  terror  of  the  Gaul. 

XXIII. 

And  plainly  and  more  plainly 

Now  might  the  burghers  know, 
By  port  and  vest,  by  horse  and  crest, 

Each  warlike  Lucumo. 
There  Cilnius  of  Arretium 

On  his  fleet  roan  was  seen ; 
And  Astur  of  the  fourfold  shield. 
Girt  with  the  brand  none  else  may  wield, 
Tolumnius  with  the  belt  of  gold, 
And  dark  Verbenna  from  the  hold 

By  reedy  Thrasymene. 

XXIV. 

Fast  by  the  royal  standard, 

O'erlooking  all  the  war, 
Lars  Porsena  of  Clusium 

Sat  in  his  ivory  car. 
By  the  right  wheel  rode  Mamilius, 

Prince  of  the  Latian  name; 
And  by  the  left  false  Sextus, 

That  wrought  the  deed  of  shame. 

XXV. 

But  when  the  face  of  Sextus 

Was  seen  among  the  foes, 
A  yell  that  rent  the  firmament 

From  all  the  town  arose. 
On  the  house  tops  was  no  woman 

But  spat  towards  him  and  hissed, 
No  child  but  screamed  out  curses, 

And  shook  its  little  fist. 


446  HORATIUS. 

XXVI. 

But  the  Consul's  brow  was  sad, 

And  the  Consul's  sj^eech  was  low, 
And  darkly  looked  he  at  the  wall 

And  darkly  at  the  foe. 
"  Their  van  will  be  upon  us 

Before  the  bridge  goes  down ; 
And  if  they  once  may  win  the  bridge, 

What  hope  to  save  the  town  ?  " 

XXVII. 

Then  outspake  brave  Horatius, 

The  Captain  of  the  Gate : 
"  To  every  man  upon  this  earth 

Death  cometh  soon  or  late. 
And  how  can  man  die  better 

Than  facing  fearful  odds, 
For  the  ashes  of  his  fathers, 

And  the  temples  of  his  Gods, 


"  And  for  the  tender  mother 

Who  dandled  him  to  rest, 
And  for  the  wife  who  nurses 

His  baby  at  her  breast. 
And  for  the  holy  maidens 

Who  feed  the  eternal  flame, 
To  save  them  from  false  Sextus 

That  wrought  the  deed  of  shame  ? 

XXIX. 

'•  Hew  down  the  bridge,  Sir  Consul, 

With  all  the  speed  ye  may ; 
I,  with  two  more  to  help  me,  ' 

Will  hold  the  foe  in  play. 
In  yon  strait  path  a  thousand 

May  well  be  stopped  by  three. 
Now  who  will  stand  on  either  hand, 

And  keep  the  bridge  with  me  ?  " 

XXX. 

Then  outspake  Spurius  Lartius ; 

A  Ramnian  proud  was  he : 
*'  Lo,  I  will  stand  at  thy  right  hand, 

And  keep  the  bridge  with  thee." 


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HORATIUS.  447 


And  outspake  strong  llerminius  j 
Of  Titian  blood  was  he; 

"  I  will  abide  on  thy  left  side, 
And  keep  the  bridge  with  thee.'"' 


"  Horatius,"  quoth  the  Consul, 

"As  thou  sayest,  so  let  it  be." 
And  straight  against  that  great  array 

Forth  went  the  dauntless  Three. 
For  Romans  in  Rome's  quarrel 

Spared  neither  land  nor  gold, 
Nor  son  nor  wife,  nor  limb  nor  life, 

In  the  brave  days  of  old. 

XXXII. 

Then  none  was  for  a  party ; 

Then  all  were  for  the  state ; 
Then  the  great  man  helped  the  poor, 

And  the  poor  man  loved  the  great : 
Then  lands  were  fairly  portioned ; 

Then  spoils  were  fairly  sold : 
The  Romans  were  like  brothers 

In  the  brave  days  of  old. 

XXXIII. 

Now  Roman  is  to  Roman 

More  hateful  than  a  foe, 
And  the  Tribunes  beard  the  high, 

And  the  Fathers  grind  the  low. 
As  we  wax  hot  in  faction, 

In  battle  we  wax  cold : 
Wherefore  men  fight  not  as  they  fought 

In  the  brave  days  of  old. 

XXXIV. 

Now  while  the  Three  were  tightening 

Their  harness  on  their  backs, 
The  Consul  was  the  foremost  man 

To  take  in  hand  an  ax : 
And  Fathers  mixed  with  Commons 

Seized  hatchet,  bar,  and  crow. 
And  smote  upon  the  planks  above, 

And  loosed  the  props  below. 


448  HORATIUS. 

XXXV. 

Meanwhile  the  Tuscan  army; 

Right  glorious  to  behold 
Came  flashing  back  the  noonday  light, 
Rank  behind  rank,  like  surges  bright 

Of  a  broad  sea  of  gold. 
Four  hundred  trumpets  sounded 

A  peal  of  warlike  glee, 
As  that  great  host,  with  measured  tread, 
And  spears  advanced,  and  ensigns  spread, 
Rolled  slowly  towards  the  bridge's  head. 

Where  stood  the  dauntless  Three. 

XXXVI. 

The  Three  stood  calm  and  silent, 

And  looked  upon  the  foes, 
And  a  great  shout  of  laughter 

From  all  the  vanguard  rose : 
And  forth  three  chiefs  came  spurring 

Before  that  deep  array ; 
To  earth  they  sprang,  their  swords  they  drew, 
And  lifted  high  their  shields,  and  flew 

To  win  the  narrow  way ; 

XXXVII. 

Annus  from  green  Tifernum, 

Lord  of  the  Hill  of  Vines ; 
And  Seius,  whose  eight  hundred  slaves 

Sicken  in  Ilva's  mines  ; 
And  Picus,  long  to  Clusium 

Vassal  in  peace  and  war, 
Who  led  to  fight  his  Umbrian  powers 
From  that  gray  crag  where,  girt  with  towers, 
The  fortress  of  Nequinum  lowers 

O'er  the  pale  waves  of  Nar. 

XXXVIII. 

Stout  Lartius  hurled  down  Annus 

Into  the  stream  beneath : 
Herminius  struck  at  Seius, 

And  clove  him  to  the  teeth : 
At  Picus  brave  Horatius 

Darted  one  fiery  thrust; 
And  the  proud  Umbrian's  gilded  arms 

Clashed  in  the  bloody  dust. 


HOUATIUS.  449 

XXXIX. 

Then  Ocnus  of  Falerii 

Rushed  on  the  Roman  Three ; 
And  Lausulus  of  Urgo, 

The  rover  of  the  sea ; 
And  Aruns  of  Volsinium, 

Who  slew  the  great  wikl  boar, 
The  great  wild  boar  that  had  his  den 
Amidst  the  reeds  of  Cosa's  fen, 
And  wasted  fields,  and  slaughtered  men. 

Along  Albinia's  shore. 

XL. 

Herminius  smote  down  Aruns : 

Lartius  laid  Ocnus  low : 
Right  to  the  heart  of  Lausulus 

Horatius  sent  a  blow. 
"  Lie  there,"  he  cried,  "  fell  pirate ! 

No  more,  aghast  and  pale. 
From  Ostia's  walls  the  crowd  shall  mark 
The  track  of  thy  destroying  bark. 
No  more  Campania's  hinds  shall  fly 
To  woods  and  caverns  when  they  spy 

Thy  thrice  accursed  sail." 

XLI. 

But  now  no  sound  of  laughter 

Was  heard  among  the  foes. 
A  wild  and  wrathful  clamor 

From  all  the  vanguard  rose. 
Six  spears'  length  from  the  entrance 

Halted  that  deep  array, 
And  for  a  space  no  man  came  forth 

To  win  the  narrow  way. 

XLII. 

But  hark !  the  cry  is  Astur : 

And  lo !  the  ranks  divid.e ; 
And  the  great  Lord  of  Luna 

Comes  with  his  stately  stride. 
Upon  his  ample  shoulders 

Clangs  loud  the  fourfold  shield. 

And  in  his  hand  he  shakes  the  brand 

Which  none  but  he  can  wield. 
as 


450  HORATIUS. 

XLIII. 

He  smiled  on  those  bold  Eomans 

A  smile  serene  and  high ; 
He  eyed  the  flinching  Tuscans, 

And  scorn  was  in  his  eye. 
Quoth  he,  "  The  she-wolf's  litter 

Stand  savagely  at  bay  : 
But  will  ye  dare  to  follow, 

If  Astur  clears  the  way  ?  " 

XLIV. 

Then,  whirling  up  his  broadsword 

With  both  hands  to  the  height. 
He  rushed  against  Horatius, 

And  smote  with  all  his  might. 
With  shield  and  blade  Horatius 

Right  deftly  turned  the  blow. 
The  blow,  though  turned,  came  yet  too  nigh ; 
It  missed  his  helm,  but  gashed  his  thigh : 
The  Tuscans  raised  a  joyful  cry 

To  see  the  red  blood  flow. 

XLV. 

He  reeled,  and  on  Herminius 

He  leaned  one  breathing  space ; 
Then,  like  a  wild  cat  mad  with  wounds, 

Sprang  right  at  Astur's  face. 
Through  teeth,  and  skull,  and  helmet 

So  fierce  a  thrust  he  sped. 
The  good  sword  stood  a  handbreadth  out 

Behind  the  Tuscan's  head. 

XLVI. 

And  the  great  Lord  of  Luna 

Fell  at  that  deadly  stroke, 
A-S  falls  on  Mount  Alvernus 

A  thunder-smitten  oak. 
Far  o'er  the  crashing  forest 

The  giant  arms  lie  spread ; 
And  the  pale  augurs,  muttering  low, 

Gaze  on  the  blasted  head. 

XLVII. 

On  Astur's  throat  Horatius 
Right  firmly  pressed  his  heelj 


HORATlUS.  461 


And  thrice  and  four  times  tugged  amain, 
Ere  he  wrenched  out  the  steel. 

"And  see,"  he  cried,  "the  welcome, 
Fair  guests,  that  waits  you  here ! 

What  noble  Lucumo  comes  next 
To  taste  our  Roman  cheer  ?  " 

XLVIII. 

But  at  his  haughty  challenge 

A  sullen  murmur  ran. 
Mingled  of  Avrath,  and  shame,  and  dread, 

Along  that  glittering  van. 
There  lacked  not  men  of  prowess, 

Nor  men  of  lordly  race ; 
For  all  Etruria's  noblest 

Were  round  the  fatal  place. 

XLIX. 

But  all  Etruria's  noblest 

Felt  their  hearts  sink  to  see 
On  the  earth  the  bloody  corpses, 

In  the  path  the  dauntless  Three : 
And,  from  the  ghastly  entrance 

Where  those  bold  Romans  stood, 
All  shrank,  like  boys  who  unaware, 
Ranging  the  woods  to  start  a  hare. 
Come  to  the  mouth  of  the  dark  lair 
Where,  growling  low,  a  fierce  old  bear 

Lies  amidst  bones  and  blood. 


Was  none  who  would  be  foremost 

To  lead  such  dire  attack : 
But  those  behind  cried  "  Forward ! " 

And  those  before  cried  "  Back ! " 
And  backward  now  and  forward 

Wavers  the  deep  array ; 
And  on  the  tossing  sea  of  steel, 
To  and  fro  the  standards  reel ; 
And  the  victorious  trumpet  peal 

Dies  fitfully  away. 

LI. 

Yet  one  man  for  one  moment 
Stood  out  before  the  crowd ; 


452  HORATIUS. 

Well  known  was  he  to  all  the  Three, 
And  they  gave  him  greeting  loud. 

"  Now  welcome,  welcome,  Sextus ! 
Now  welcome  to  thy  home ! 

AVhy  dost  thou  stay,  and  turn  away  ? 
Here  lies  the  road  to  Kome." 

LIT. 

Thrice  looked  he  at  the  city ; 

Thrice  looked  he  at  the  dead ; 
And  thrice  came  on  in  fury. 

And  thrice  turned  back  in  dread ; 
And,  white  with  fear  and  hatred. 

Scowled  at  the  narrow  way 
Where,  wallowing  in  a  pool  of  blood, 

The  bravest  Tuscans  lay. 

LIII. 

But  meanwhile  ax  and  lever 

Have  manfully  been  plied ; 
And  now  the  bridge  hangs  tottering 

Above  the  boiling  tide. 
"  Come  back,  come  back,  Horatius ! " 

Loud  cried  the  Fathers  all. 
"  Back,  Lartius !  back,  Herminius ! 

Back,  ere  the  ruin  fall ! " 

LIV. 

Back  darted  Spurius  Lartius ; 

Herminius  darted  back : 
And,  as  they  passed,  beneath  their  feet 

They  felt  the  timbers  crack. 
But  when  they  turned  their  faces, 

And  on  the  farther  shore 
Saw  brave  Horatius  stand  alone. 

They  would  have  crossed  once  more 

LV. 

But  with  a  crash  like  thunder 

Fell  every  loosened  beam, 
And,  like  a  dam,  the  mighty  wreck 

Lay  right  athwart  the  stream : 
And  a  long  shout  of  triumph 

Eose  from  the  walls  of  Eome, 
As  to  the  highest  turret  tops 

Was  splashed  the  yellow  foam. 


HORATIUS.  453 


LVI. 

And,  like  a  horse  unbroken 

When  first  he  feels  the  rein, 
The  furious  river  struggled  hard, 

And  tossed  his  tawny  mane, 
And  burst  the  curb,  and  bounded, 

Rejoicing  to  be  free, 
And  whirling  down,  in  fierce  career, 
Battlement,  and  plank,  and  pier, 

Rushed  headlong  to  the  sea. 

LVII. 

Alone  stood  brave  Horatius, 

But  constant  still  in  mind ; 
Thrice  thirty  thousand  foes  before, 

Ajid  the  broad  flood  behind. 
"Down  with  him ! "  cried  false  Sextus, 

With  a  smile  on  his  pale  face. 
"  Now  yield  thee,"  cried  Lars  Porsena, 

"  Now  yield  thee  to  our  grace." 

LVIII. 

Round  turned  he,  as  not  deigning 

Those  craven  ranks  to  see  ; 
Naught  spake  he  to  Lars  Porsena, 

To  Sextus  naught  spake  he ; 
But  he  saw  on  Palatinus 

The  white  porch  of  his  home ; 
And  he  spake  to  the  noble  river 

That  rolls  by  the  towers  of  Rome. 

LIX. 

"Oh,  Tiber!  father  Tiber! 

To  whom  the  Romans  pray, 
A  Roman's  life,  a  Roman's  arms, 

Take  thou  in  charge  this  day ! " 
So  he  spake,  and  speaking  sheathed 

The  good  sword  by  his  side, 
And  with  his  harness  on  his  back, 

Plunged  headlong  in  the  tide. 

LX. 

No  sound  of  joy  or  sorrow 

Was  heard  from  either  bank ; 
But  friends  and  foes  in  dumb  surprise, 


454  HORATIUS. 

With  parted  lips  and  straining  eyes, 
Stood  gazing  where  he  sank  ; 

And  when  above  the  surges 
They  saw  his  crest  appear, 

All  Rome  sent  forth  a  rapturous  cry, 

And  even  the  ranks  of  Tuscany 
Could  scarce  forbear  to  cheer. 


But  fiercely  ran  the  current, 

Swollen  high  by  months  of  rain : 
And  fast  his  blood  was  flowing; 

And  he  was  sore  in  pain, 
And  heavy  with  his  armor. 

And  spent  with  changing  blows  t 
And  oft  they  thought  him  sinking. 

But  still  again  he  rose. 

LXII. 

Never,  I  ween,  did  swimmer, 

In  such  an  evil  case. 
Struggle  through  such  a  raging  flood 

Safe  to  the  landing  place  : 
But  his  limbs  were  borne  up  bravely 

By  the  brave  heart  within. 
And  our  good  father  Tiber 

Bore  bravely  up  his  chin. 

LXIII. 

"  Curse  on  him  !  "  quoth  false  Sextus ; 

"  Will  not  the  villain  drown  ? 
But  for  this  stay,  ere  close  of  day 

We  should  have  sacked  the  town ! " 
"  Heaven  help  him  ! "  quoth  Lars  Porsena, 

"  And  bring  him  safe  to  shore ; 
For  such  a  gallant  feat  of  arms 

Was  never  seen  before." 

LXIV. 

And  now  he  feels  the  bottom ; 

Now  on  dry  earth  he  stands ; 
Now  round  him  throng  the  Fathers 

To  press  his  gory  hands ; 
And  now,  with  shouts  and  clapping, 

And  noise  of  weeping  loud, 


TIORATIUS.  455 


He  enters  through  the  River  Gate, 
Borne  by  the  joyous  crowd. 

LXV. 

They  gave  him  of  the  corn  land, 

That  was  of  public  right, 
As  much  as  two  strong  oxen 

Could  plow  from  morn  till  night ; 
And  they  made  a  molten  image. 

And  set  it  up  on  high, 
And  there  it  stands  unto  this  day 

To  witness  if  I  lie. 

LXVI. 

It  stands  in  the  Comitium 

Plain  for  all  folk  to  see ; 
Horatius  in  his  harness, 

Halting  upon  one  knee : 
And  underneath  is  written. 

In  letters  all  of  gold, 
How  valiantly  he  kept  the  bridge 

In  the  brave  days  of  old. 

Lxvir. 

And  still  his  name  sounds  stirring 

Unto  the  men  of  Rome, 
As  the  trumpet  blast  that  cries  to  them 

To  charge  the  Volscian  home ; 
And  wives  still  pray  to  Juno 

For  boys  with  hearts  as  bold 
As  his  who  kept  the  bridge  so  well 

In  the  brave  days  of  old. 

LXVIII. 

And  in  the  nights  of  winter, 

When  the  cold  north  winds  blow. 
And  the  long  howling  of  the  wolves 

Is  heard  amidst  the  snow ; 
When  round  the  lonely  cottage 

Roars  loud  the  tempest's  din, 
And  the  good  logs  of  Algidua 

Roar  louder  yet  within  j 


456  HORATIUS. 


LXIX. 

When  the  oldest  cask  is  opened, 

And  the  largest  lamp  is  lit ; 
When  the  chestnuts  glow  in  the  embers, 

And  the  kid  turns  on  the  spit ; 
When  young  and  old  in  circle 

Around  the  firebrands  close ; 
When  the  girls  are  weaving  baskets. 

And  the  lads  are  shaping  bows  j 

LXX. 

When  the  goodman  mends  his  armor, 

And  trims  his  helmet's  plume ; 
When  the  goodwife's  shuttle  merrily 

Goes  flashing  through  the  loom ; 
With  weeping  and  with  laughter 

Still  is  the  story  told, 
^  How  well  Horatius  kept  the  bridge 

In  the  brave  days  of  old. 


VIRGINIA. 

By  THOMAS  BABINGTON  MACAULAY. 

The  Patricians,  during  more  than  a  century  after  the  expul- 
sion of  the  Kings,  held  all  the  high  military  commands.  A 
Plebeian,  even  though,  like  Lucius  Siccius,  he  were  distin- 
guished by  his  valor  and  knowledge  of  war,  could  serve  only 
in  subordinate  posts.  A  minstrel,  therefore,  who  wished  to 
celebrate  the  early  triumphs  of  his  country,  could  hardly  take 
any  but  Patricians  for  his  heroes.  The  warriors  who  are  men- 
tioned in  the  two  preceding  lays,  Horatius,  Lartius,  Herminius, 
Aulus  Posthumius,  ^butius  Elva,  Sempronius  Atratinus, 
Valerius  Poplicola,  were  all  members  of  the  dominant  order; 
and  a  poet  who  was  singing  their  praises,  whatever  his  own 
political  opinions  might  be,  would  naturally  abstain  from 
insulting  the  class  to  which  they  belonged,  and  from  reflecting 
on  the  system  which  had  placed  such  men  at  the  head  of  the 
legions  of  the  commonwealth. 

But  there  was  a  class  of  compositions  in  which  the  great 
families  were  by  no  means  so  courteously  treated.     No  parts 


VIRGINIA.  457 

of  early  Roman  history  are  richer  with  poetical  coloring  thiin 
those  which  relate  to  the  long  contest  between  the  privileged 
houses  and  the  commonalty.     The  population  of   Rome  was, 
from  a  very  early  period,  divided  into  hereditary  castes,  which, 
indeed,   readily  united  to  repel  foreign  enemies,   but  which 
regarded  each  other,  during  many  years,  with  bitter  animosity. 
Between  those  castes  there  was  a  barrier  hardly  less  strong  than 
that  which,  at  Venice,  parted  the  members  of  the  Great  Coun- 
cil from  their  countrymen.     In  some  respects,  indeed,  the  line 
which  separated  an  Icilius  or  a  Duilius  from  a  Posthumius 
or  a  Fabius  was  even  more  deeply  marked  than  that  which 
separated   the    rower   of    a    gondola   from    a    Contarini    or   a 
Morosini.     At  Venice  the  distinction  was  merely  civil.     At 
Rome  it  was  both  civil  and  religious.     Among  the  grievances 
under  which  the  Plebeians  suffered,  three  were  felt  as  pecul- 
iarly severe.     They  were  excluded  from  the  highest  magis- 
tracies; they  were  excluded  from  all  share  in  the  public  lands; 
and  they  were  ground  down  to  the  dust  by  partial  and  bar- 
barous legislation  touching  pecuniary  contracts.     The  ruling 
class  in  Rome  was  a  moneyed  class ;  and  it  made  and  adminis- 
tered the  laws  with  a  view  solely  to  its  own  interest.     Thus 
the  relation  between  lender  and  borrower  was  mixed  up  with 
the  relation  between  sovereign  and  subject.     The  great  men 
held  a  large  portion  of  the  community  in  dependence  by  means 
of  advances  at  enormous  usury.     The  law  of  debt,  framed  by 
creditors,  and  for  the  protection  of  creditors,  was  the  most  hor- 
rible that  has  ever  been  known  among  men.     The  liberty,  and 
even  the  life,  of  the  insolvent  were  at  the  mercy  of  the  Patri- 
cian money  lenders.     Children  often  became  slaves  in  conse- 
quence of  the  misfortunes  of  their  parents.     The  debtor  was 
imprisoned,  not  in  a  public  jail  under  the  care  of   impartial 
public  functionaries,  but  in  a  private  workhouse  belonging  to 
the  creditor.     Frightful  stories  were  told  respecting  these  dun- 
geons.    It  was  said  that  torture   and   brutal  violation  were 
common;  that  tight  stocks,  heavy  chains,  scanty  measures  of 
food,  were  used  to  punish  wretches  guilty  of  nothing  but  pov- 
erty ;  and  that  brave  soldiers,  whose  breasts  were  covered  with 
honorable  scars,  were  often  marked  still  more  deeply  on  the 
back  by  the  scourges  of  high-born  usurers. 

The  Plebeians  were,  however,  not  wholly  without  constitu- 
tional rights.  From  an  early  period  they  had  been  admitted 
to  some  share  of  political  power.     They  were  enrolled  each  in 


468  VIRGINIA. 

his  century,  and  were  allowed  a  share,  considerable  though  not 
proportioned  to  their  numerical  strength,  in  the  disposal  of 
those  high  dignities  from  which  they  were  themselves  excluded. 
Thus  their  position  bore  some  resemblance  to  that  of  the  Irish 
Catholics  during  the  interval  between  the  year  1792  and  the 
year  1829.  The  Plebeians  had  also  the  privilege  of  annually 
appointing  officers,  named  Tribunes,  who  had  no  active  share 
in  the  government  of  the  Commonwealth,  but  who,  by  degrees, 
acquired  a  power  formidable  even  to  the  ablest  and  most  reso- 
lute Consuls  and  Dictators.  The  person  of  the  Tribune  was 
inviolable ;  and,  though  he  could  directly  effect  little,  he  could 
obstruct  everything. 

During  more  than  a  century  after  the  institution  of  the 
Tribuneship,  the  Commons  struggled  manfully  for  the  removal 
of  the  grievances  under  which  they  labored;  and,  in  spite  of 
many  checks  and  reverses,  succeeded  in  wringing  concession 
after  concession  from  the  stubborn  aristocracy.  At  length,  in 
the  year  of  the  city  378,  both  parties  mustered  their  whole 
strength  for  their  last  and  most  desperate  conflict.  The  popular 
and  active  Tribune,  Caius  Licinius,  proposed  the  three  memor- 
able laws  which  are  called  by  his  name,  and  which  were  in- 
tended to  redress  the  three  great  evils  of  which  the  Plebeians 
complained.  He  was  supported,  with  eminent  ability  and 
firmness,  by  his  colleague,  Lucius  Sextius.  The  struggle 
appears  to  have  been  the  fiercest  that  ever  in  any  community 
terminated  without  an  appeal  to  arms.  If  such  a  contest  had 
raged  in  any  Greek  city,  the  streets  would  have  run  with  blood. 
But,  even  in  the  paroxysms  of  faction,  the  Roman  retained  his 
gravity,  his  respect  for  law,  and  his  tenderness  for  the  lives  of 
his  fellow-citizens.  Year  after  year  Licinius  and  Sextius  were 
reelected  Tribunes.  Year  after  year,  if  the  narrative  which 
has  come  down  to  us  is  to  be  trusted,  they  continued  to  exert, 
to  the  full  extent,  their  power  of  stopping  the  whole  machine 
of  government.  No  curule  magistrates  could  be  chosen;  no 
military  muster  could  be  held.  We  know  too  little  of  the  state 
of  Rome  in  those  days  to  be  able  to  conjecture  how,  during  that 
long  anarchy,  the  peace  was  kept,  and  ordinary  justice  admin- 
istered between  man  and  man.  The  animosity  of  both  parties 
rose  to  the  greatest  height.  The  excitement,  we  may  well 
suppose,  would  have  been  peculiarly  intense  at  the  annual 
election  of  Tribunes.  On  such  occasions  there  can  be  little 
doubt  that  the  great  families  did  all  that  could  be  done,  by 


VIRGINIA.  459 

threats  and  caresses,  to  break  the  union  of  the  Plebeians.  That 
union,  however,  proved  indissoluble.  At  length  the  good  cause 
triumphed.  The  Licinian  laws  were  carried.  Lucius  Sextius 
was  the  first  Plebeian  Consul,  Caius  Licinius  the  third. 

The  results  of  this  great  change  were  singularly  happy  and 
glorious.  Two  centuries  of  prosperity,  harmony,  and  victory 
followed  the  reconciliation  of  the  orders.  Men  who  remem- 
bered Rome  engaged  in  waging  petty  wars  almost  within  sight 
of  the  Capitol  lived  to  see  her  the  mistress  of  Italy.  While  the 
disabilities  of  the  Plebeians  continued,  she  was  scarcely  able 
to  maintain  her  ground  against  the  Volscians  and  Hernicans. 
When  those  disabilities  were  removed,  she  rapidly  became  more 
than  a  match  for  Carthage  and  Macedon. 

During  the  great  Licinian  contest  the  Plebeian  poets  were, 
doubtless,  not  silent.  Even  in  modern  times  songs  have  been 
by  no  means  without  influence  on  public  affairs ;  and  we  may 
therefore  infer  that,  in  a  society  where  printing  was  unknown, 
and  where  books  were  rare,  a  pathetic  or  humorous  party  ballad 
must  have  produced  effects  such  as  we  can  but  faintly  conceive. 
It  is  certain  that  satirical  poems  were  common  at  Rome  from  a 
very  early  period.  The  rustics,  who  lived  at  a  distance  from 
the  seat  of  government,  and  took  little  part  in  the  strife  of 
factions,  gave  vent  to  their  petty  local  animosities  in  coarse 
Fescennine  verse.  The  lampoons  of  the  city  were  doubtless  of 
a  higher  order;  and  their  sting  was  early  felt  by  the  nobility. 
For  in  the  Twelve  Tables,  long  before  the  time  of  the  Licinian 
laws,  a  severe  punishment  was  denounced  against  the  citizen 
who  should  compose  or  recite  verses  reflecting  on  another. 
Satire  is,  indeed,  the  only  sort  of  composition  in  which  the 
Latin  poets  whose  works  have  come  down  to  us  were  not  mere 
imitators  of  foreign  models ;  and  it  is  therefore  the  only  sort  of 
composition  in  which  they  have  never  been  rivaled.  It  was 
not,  like  their  tragedy,  their  comedy,  their  epic  and  lyric  poetry, 
a  hothouse  plant  which,  in  return  for  assiduous  and  skillful  cul- 
ture, gave  only  scanty  and  sickly  fruits.  It  was  hardy  and  full 
of  sap ;  and  in  all  the  various  juices  which  it  yielded  might  be 
distinguished  the  flavor  of  the  Ausonian  soil.  "Satire,"  says 
Quinctilian,  with  just  pride,  "is  all  our  own."  Satire  sprang, 
in  truth,  naturally  from  the  constitution  of  the  Roman  govern- 
ment and  from  the  spirit  of  the  Roman  people ;  and,  though  at 
length  subjected  to  metrical  rules  derived  from  Greece,  retained 
to  the  last  an  essentially  Roman  character.     Lucilius  was  the 


460  VIRGINIA. 

earliest  satirist  whose  works  were  held  in  esteem  under  the 
Cajsars.  But  many  years  before  Lucilius  was  born,  Naevius 
had  been  flung  into  a  dungeon,  and  guarded  there  with  circum- 
stances of  unusual  rigor,  on  account  of  the  bitter  lines  in  which 
he  had  attacked  the  great  Ceecilian  family.  The  genius  and 
spirit  of  the  Roman  satirists  survived  the  liberty  of  their 
country,  and  were  not  extinguished  by  the  cruel  despotism  of 
the  Julian  and  Flavian  Emperors.  The  great  poet  who  told 
the  story  of  Domitian's  turbot,  was  the  legitimate  successor 
of  those  forgotten  minstrels  whose  songs  animated  the  factions 
of  the  infant  Republic. 

These  minstrels,  as  Niebuhr  has  remarked,  appear  to  have 
generally  taken  the  popular  side.  We  can  hardly  be  mistaken 
in  supposing  that,  at  the  great  crisis  of  the  civil  conflict,  they 
employed  themselves  in  versifying  all  the  most  powerful  and 
virulent  speeches  of  the  Tribunes,  and  in  heaping  abuse  on 
the  leaders  of  the  aristocracy.  Every  personal  defect,  every 
domestic  scandal,  every  tradition  dishonorable  to  a  noble  house, 
would  be  sought  out,  brought  into  notice,  and  exaggerated. 
The  illustrious  head  of  the  aristocratical  party,  Marcus  Furius 
Camillus,  might  perhaps  be,  in  some  measure,  protected  by  his 
venerable  age  and  by  the  memory  of  his  great  services  to  the 
State.  But  Appius  Claudius  Crassus  enjoyed  no  such  im- 
munity. He  was  descended  from  a  long  line  of  ancestors  dis- 
tinguished by  their  haughty  demeanor,  and  by  the  inflexibility 
with  which  they  had  withstood  all  the  demands  of  the  Plebeian 
order.  While  the  political  conduct  and  the  deportment  of  the 
Claudian  nobles  drew  upon  them  the  fiercest  public  hatred, 
they  were  accused  of  wanting,  if  any  credit  is  due  to  the  early 
history  of  Rome,  a  class  of  qualities  which,  in  the  military 
Commonwealth,  is  sufficient  to  cover  a  multitude  of  offenses. 
The  chiefs  of  the  family  appear  to  have  been  eloquent,  versed 
in  civil  business,  and  learned  after  the  fashion  of  their  age; 
but  in  war  they  were  not  distinguished  by  skill  or  valor. 
Some  of  them,  as  if  conscious  where  their  weakness  lay,  had, 
when  filling  the  highest  magistracies,  taken  internal  adminis- 
tration as  their  department  of  public  business,  and  left  the 
military  command  to  their  colleagues.  One  of  them  had  been 
intrusted  with  an  army,  and  had  failed  ignominiously.  None 
of  them  had  been  honored  with  a  triumph.  None  of  them  had 
achieved  any  martial  exploit,  such  as  those  by  which  Lucius 
Quinctius  Cincinnatus,  Titus  Quinctius  Capitolinus,  Aulu9 


VIRGINIA.  461 

Cornelius  Cossus,  and,  above  all,  the  great  Camillus,  had 
extorted  the  reluctant  esteem  of  the  multitude.  During  the 
Licinian  conflict,  Appius  Claudius  Crassus  signalized  himself 
by  the  ability  and  severity  with  which  he  harangued  against  the 
two  great  agitators.  He  would  naturally,  therefore,  be  the 
favorite  mark  of  the  Plebeian  satirists;  nor  would  they  have 
been  at  a  loss  to  find  a  point  on  which  he  was  open  to  attack. 

His  grandfather,  called,  like  himself,  Appius  Claudius,  had 
left  a  name  as  much  detested  as  that  of  Sextus  Tarquinius. 
This  elder  Appius  had  been  Consul  more  than  seventy  years 
before  the  introduction  of  the  Licinian  laws.  By  availing  him- 
self of  a  singular  crisis  in  public  feeling,  he  had  obtained  the 
consent  of  the  Commons  to  the  abolition  of  the  Tribuneship, 
and  had  been  the  chief  of  that  Council  of  Ten  to  which  the 
whole  direction  of  the  State  had  been  committed.  In  a  few 
months  his  administration  had  become  universally  odious.  It 
had  been  swept  away  by  an  irresistible  outbreak  of  popular  fury; 
and  its  memory  was  still  held  in  abhorrence  by  the  whole  city. 
The  immediate  cause  of  the  downfall  of  this  execrable  govern- 
ment was  said  to  have  been  an  attempt  made  by  Appius  Claudius 
upon  the  chastity  of  a  beautiful  young  girl  of  humble  birth. 
The  story  ran  that  the  Decemvir,  unable  to  succeed  by  bribes 
and  solicitations,  resorted  to  an  outrageous  act  of  tyranny.  A 
vile  dependent  of  the  Claudian  house  laid  claim  to  the  damsel 
as  his  slave.  The  cause  was  brought  before  the  tribunal  of 
Appius.  The  wicked  magistrate,  in  defiance  of  the  clearest 
proofs,  gave  judgment  for  the  claimant.  But  the  girl's  father, 
a  brave  soldier,  saved  her  from  servitude  and  dishonor  by  stab- 
bing her  to  the  lieart  in  the  sight  of  the  whole  Forum.  That 
blow  was  the  signal  for  a  general  explosion.  Camp  and  city 
rose  at  once ;  the  Ten  were  pulled  down ;  the  Tribuneship  was 
reestablished ;  and  Appius  escaped  the  hands  of  the  executioner 
only  by  a  voluntary  death. 

It  can  hardly  be  doubted  that  a  story  so  admirably  adapted 
to  the  purposes  both  of  the  poet  and  of  the  demagogue  would 
be  eagerly  seized  upon  by  minstrels  burning  with  hatred  against 
the  Patrician  order,  against  the  Claudian  house,  and  especially 
against  the  grandson  and  namesake  of  the  infamous  Decemvir. 

In  order  that  the  reader  may  judge  fairly  of  these  fragments 
of  the  lay  of  Virginia,  he  must  imagine  himself  a  Plebeian  who 
has  just  voted  for  the  reelection  of  Sextius  and  Licinius.  All 
the  power  of  the  Patricians  has  been  exerted  to  throw  out  the 


462  VIRGINIA. 

two  great  champions  of  the  Commons.  Every  Posthumius, 
^milius,  and  Cornelius  has  used  his  influence  to  the  utmost. 
Debtors  have  been  let  out  of  the  workhouses  on  condition  of 
voting  against  the  men  of  the  people :  clients  have  been  posted 
to  hiss  and  interrupt  the  favorite  candidates :  Appius  Claudius 
Crassus  has  spoken  with  more  than  his  usual  eloquence  and 
asperity:  all  has  been  in  vain;  Licinius  and  Sextius  have  a 
fifth  time  carried  all  the  tribes :  work  is  suspended :  the  booths 
are  closed :  the  Plebeians  bear  on  their  shoulders  the  two  cham- 
pions of  liberty  through  the  Forum.  Just  at  this  moment  it  is 
announced  that  a  popular  poet,  a  zealous  adherent  of  the  Trib- 
unes, has  made  a  new  song  which  will  cut  the  Claudian  nobles 
to  the  heart.  The  crowd  gathers  round  him,  and  calls  on  him 
to  recite  it.  He  takes  his  stand  on  the  spot  where,  according  to 
tradition,  Virginia,  more  than  seventy  years  ago,  was  seized 
by  the  pandar  of  Appius,  and  he  begins  his  story. 

ViEGINIA. 

FRAGMENTS  OF  A  LAY  SUNG  IN  THE  FORUM  ON  THE  DAY  WHEREON 
LUCIUS  SEXTIUS  SEXTINUS  LATERANUS  AND  CAIUS  LICINIUS 
CALVUS  STOLO  WERE  ELECTED  TRIBUNES  OF  THE  COMMONS  THE 
FIFTH   TIME,    IN   THE   YEAR   OF   THE   CITY   CCCLXXXII. 

Ye  good  men  of  the  Commons,  with  loving  hearts  and  true, 

Who  stand  by  the  bold  Tribunes  that  still  have  stood  by  you, 

Come,  make  a  circle  round  me,  and  mark  my  tale  with  care, 

A  tale  of  what  Rome  once  hath  borne,  of  what  Rome  yet  may  bear. 

This  is  no  Grecian  fable,  of  fountains  running  wine. 

Of  maids  with  snaky  tresses,  or  sailors  turned  to  sv/ine. 

Here,  in  this  very  Forum  under  the  noonday  sun, 

In  sight  of  all  the  people,  the  bloody  deed  was  done. 

Old  men  still  creep  among  us  who  saw  that  fearful  day, 

Just  seventy  years  and  seven  ago,  when  the  wicked  Ten  bare  sway. 

Of  all  the  wicked  Ten  still  the  names  are  held  accursed. 
And  of  all  the  wicked  Ten  Appius  Claudius  was  the  worst. 
He  stalked  along  the  Forum  like  King  Tarquin  in  his  pride : 
Twelve  axes  waited  on  him,  six  marching  on  a  side ; 
The  townsmen  shrank  to  right  and  left,  and  eyed  askance  with  fear 
His  lowering  brow,  his  curling  mouth,  which  always  seemed  to  sneer : 
That  brow  of  hate,  that  mouth  of  scorn,  marks  all  the  kindred  still ; 
For  never  was  there  Claudius  yet  but  wished  the  Commons  ill ; 
Nor  lacks  he  fit  attendance ;  for  close  behind  his  heels, 


VIRGINIA.  463 

With  outstretched  chin  and  crouching  pace,  the  client  Marcus  steals, 
His  loins  girt  up  to  run  with  speed,  be  the  errand  what  it  may, 
And  the  smile  flickering  on  his  cheek,  for  aught  his  lord  may  say. 
Such  varlets  pimp  and  jest  for  hire  among  the  lying  Greeks : 
Such  varlets  still  are  paid  to  hoot  when  brave  Licinius  speaks. 
Where'er  ye  shed  the  honey,  the  buzzing  flies  will  crowd  ; 
Where'er  ye  fling  the  carrion,  the  raven's  croak  is  loud ; 
Where'er  down  Tiber  garbage  floats,  the  greedy  pike  ye  see ; 
And  wheresoe'er  such  lord  is  found,  such  client  still  will  be. 

Just  then,  as  through  one  cloudless  chink  in  a  black  stormy  sky 
Shines  out  the  dewy  morning  star,  a  fair  young  girl  came  by. 
With  her  small  tablets  in  her  hand,  and  her  satchel  on  her  arm, 
Home  she  went  bounding  from  the  school,  nor  dreamed  of  shame  or 

harm ; 
And  past  those  dreaded  axes  she  innocently  ran, 
With  bright,  frank  brow  that  had  not  learned  to  blush  at  gaze  of  man; 
And  up  the  Sacred  Street  she  turned,  and,  as  she  danced  along, 
She  warbled  gayly  to  herself  lines  of  the  good  old  song. 
How  for  a  sport  the  princes  came  spurring  from  the  camp. 
And  found  Lucrece,  combing  the  fleece,  under  the  midnight  lamp. 
The  maiden  sang  as  sings  the  lark,  when  up  he  darts  his  flight, 
From  his  nest  in  the  green  April  corn,  to  meet  the  morning  light ; 
And  Appius  heard  her  sweet  young  voice,  and  saw  her  sweet  young 

face 
And  loved  her  with  the  accursed  love  of  his  accursed  race, 
And  all  along  the  Forum,  and  up  the  Sacred  Street, 
His  vulture  eye  pursued  the  trip  of  those  small  glancing  feet. 
******* 

Over  the  Alban  mountains  the  light  of  morning  broke ; 
From  all  the  roofs  of  the  Seven  Hills  curled  the  thin  wreaths  of 

smoke : 
The  city  gates  were  opened ;  the  Forum  all  alive. 
With  buyers  and  with  sellers  was  humming  like  a  hive : 
Blithely  on  brass  and  timber  the  craftsman's  stroke  was  ringing. 
And  blithely  o'er  her  panniers  the  market  girl  was  singing. 
And  blithely  young  Virginia  came  smiling  from  her  home  : 
Ah !  woe  for  young  Virginia,  the  sweetest  maid  in  Kome ! 
With  her  small  tablets  in  her  hand,  and  her  satchel  on  her  arm, 
Forth  she  went  bounding  to  the  school,  nor  dreamed  of  shame  or 

harm. 
She  crossed  the  Forum  shining  with  stalls  in  alleys  gay. 
And  just  had  reached  the  very  spot  whereon  I  stand  this  day. 
When  up  the  varlet  Marcus  came ;  not  such  as  when  erewhile 
He  crouched  behind  his  patron's  heels  with  the  true  client  smile. 


464  VIRGINIA. 

He  came  with  lowering  forehead,  swollen  features,  and  clenched  fist, 

And  strode  across  Virginia's  path,  and  caught  her  by  the  wrist. 

Hard  strove  the  frighted  maiden,  and  screamed  with  look  aghast ; 

And  at  her  scream  from  right  and  left  the  folk  came  running  fast ; 

The  money  changer  Crispus,  with  his  thin  silver  hairs, 

And  Hanno  from  the  stately  booth  glittering  with  Punic  wares, 

And  the  strong  smith  Muraena,  grasping  a  half-forged  brand, 

And  Volero  the  flesher,  his  cleaver  in  his  hand. 

All  came  in  wrath  and  wonder ;  for  all  knew  that  fair  child ; 

And,  as  she  passed  them  twice  a  day,  all  kissed  their  hands  and 

smiled ; 
And  the  strong  smith  Mursena  gave  Marcus  such  a  blow, 
The  caitiff  reeled  three  paces  back,  and  let  the  maiden  go. 
Yet  glared  he  fiercely  round  him,  and  growled  in  harsh,  fell  tone, 
"  She's  mine,  and  I  will  have  her :  I  seek  but  for  mine  own : 
She  is  my  slave,  born  in  my  house,  and  stolen  away  and  sold, 
The  year  of  the  sore  sickness,  ere  she  was  twelve  hours  old. 
'Twas  in  the  sad  September,  the  month  of  wail  and  fright. 
Two  augurs  were  borne  forth  that  morn;  the  Consul  died  ere  night. 
I  wait  on  Appius  Claudius,  I  waited  on  his  sire  : 
Let  him  who  works  the  client  wrong  beware  the  patron's  ire ! " 

So  spake  the  varlet  Marcus ;  and  dread  and  silence  came 
On  all  the  people  at  the  sound  of  the  great  Claudian  name. 
For  then  there  was  no  Tribune  to  speak  the  word  of  might, 
Which  makes  the  rich  man  tremble,  and  guards  the  poor  man's  right. 
There  was  no  brave  Licinius,  no  honest  Sextius  then ; 
But  all  the  city,  in  great  fear,  obeyed  the  wicked  Ten. 
Yet  ere  the  varlet  Marcus  again  might  seize  the  maid. 
Who  clung  tight  to  Muraena's  skirt,  and  sobbed,  and  shrieked  for  aid, 
Forth  through  the  throng  of  gazers  the  young  Icilius  pressed, 
And  stamped  his  foot,  and  rent  his  gown,  and  smote  upon  his  breast, 
And  sprang  upon  that  column,  by  many  a  minstrel  sung. 
Whereon  three  moldering  helmets,  three  rusting  swords,  are  hung. 
And  beckoned  to  the  people,  and  in  bold  voice  and  clear 
Poured  thick  and  fast  the  burning  words  which  tyrants  quake  to 
hear. 

"  Now,  by  your  children's  cradles,  now  by  your  fathers'  graves, 
Be  men  to-day,  Quirites,  or  be  forever  slaves  ! 
For  this  did  Servius  give  us  laws  ?     For  this  did  Lucrece  bleed  ? 
For  this  was  the  great  vengeance  wrought  on  Tarquin's  evil  seed  ? 
For  this  did  those  false  sons  make  red  the  axes  of  their  sire  ? 
For  this  did  Scaevola's  right  hand  hiss  in  the  Tuscan  fire  ? 
Shall  the  vile  foxearth  awe  the  race  that  stormed  the  lion's  den  ? 
Shall  we,  who  could  not  brook  one  lord,  crouch  to  the  wicked  Ten  ? 


VIRGINIA.  465 

Oh  for  that  ancient  spirit  which  curbed  the  Senate's  will ! 

Oh  for  the  tents  which  in  old  time  whitened  the  Sacred  Hill ! 

In  those  brave  days  our  fathers  stood  firmly  side  by  side ; 

They  faced  the  Marcian  fury ;  they  tamed  the  Fabian  pride : 

They  drove  the  fiercest  Quinctius  an  outcast  forth  from  Rome ; 

They  sent  the  haughtiest  Claudius  with  shivered  fasces  home. 

But  what  their  care  bequeathed  us  our  madness  flung  away  : 

All  the  ripe  fruit  of  threescore  years  was  blighted  in  a  day. 

Exult,  ye  proud  Patricians !     The  hard-fought  fight  is  o'er. 

We  strove  for  honors  —  'twas  in  vain :  for  freedom  —  'tis  no  more. 

No  crier  to  the  polling  summons  the  eager  throng ; 

No  tribune  breathes  the  word  of  might  that  guards  the  weak  from 

wrong. 
Our  very  hearts,  that  were  so  high,  sink  down  beneath  your  will. 
Riches,  and  lands,  and  power,  and  state — ye  have  them:  —  keep 

them  still ; 
Still  keep  the  holy  fillets  ;  still  keep  the  purple  gown, 
The  axes,  and  the  curule  chair,  the  car,  and  laurel  crown : 
Still  press  us  for  your  cohorts,  and,  when  the  fight  is  done. 
Still  fill  your  garners  from  the  soil  which  our  good  swords  have 

won. 

Still,  like  a  spreading  ulcer,  which  leech  craft  may  not  cure, 

Let  your  foul  usance  eat  away  the  substance  of  the  poor ; 

Still  let  your  haggard  debtors  bear  all  their  fathers  bore ; 

Still  let  your  dens  of  torment  be  noisome  as  of  yore ; 

No  fire  when  Tiber  freezes  ;  no  air  in  dog-star  heat ; 

And  store  of  rods  for  freeborn  backs,  and  holes  for  freeborn  feet. 

Heap  heavier  still  the  fetters  ;  bar  closer  still  the  grate ; 

Patient  as  sheep  we  yield  us  up  unto  your  cruel  hate. 

But,  by  the  Shades  beneath  us,  and  by  the  Gods  above. 

Add  not  unto  your  cruel  hate  your  yet  more  cruel  love! 

Have  ye  not  graceful  ladies,  whose  spotless  lineage  springs 

From  Consuls,  and  High  Pontiffs,  and  ancient  Alban  kings? 

Ladies,  who  deign  not  on  our  paths  to  set  their  tender  feet, 

Who  from  their  cars  look  down  with  scorn  upon  the  wondering  street, 

Who  in  Corinthian  mirrors  their  own  proud  smiles  behold, 

And  breathe  of  Capuan  odors,  and  shine  with  Spanish  gold  ? 

Then  leave  the  poor  Plebeian  his  single  tie  to  life  — 

The  sweet,  sweet  love  of  daughter,  of  sister,  and  of  wife, 

The  gentle  speech,  the  balm  for  all  that  his  vexed  soul  endures, 

The  kiss,  in  which  he  half  forgets  even  such  a  yoke  as  yours. 

Still  let  the  maiden's  beauty  swell  the  father's  breast  with  pride,' 

Still  let  the  bridegroom's  arms  infold  an  unpolluted  bride. 

Spare  us  the  inexpiable  wrong,  the  unutterable  shame, 

That  turns  the  coward's  heart  to  steel,  the  sluggard's  blood  to  flame, 
30 


466  VIRGINIA. 

Lest,  when  our  latest  hope  is  fled,  ye  taste  of  our  despair, 
And  learn  by  proof,  in  some  wild  hour,  how  much  the  wretched 
dare." 

******* 

Straightway  Virginius  led  the  maid  a  little  space  aside. 
To  where  the  reeking  shambles  stood,  piled  up  with  horn  and  hide, 
Close  to  yon  low  dark  archway,  where,  in  a  crimson  flood. 
Leaps  down  to  the  great  sewer  the  gurgling  stream  of  blood. 
Hard  by,  a  flesher  on  a  block  had  laid  his  whittle  down ; 
Virginius  caught  the  whittle  up,  and  hid  it  in  his  gown. 
And  then  his  eyes  grew  very  dim,  and  his  throat  began  to  swell. 
And  in  a  hoarse,  changed  voice  he  spake,  '^  Farewell,  sweet  child ! 

Farewell ! 
Oh !  how  I  loved  my  darling !    Though  stern  I  sometimes  be. 
To  thee,  thou  know'st  I  was  not  so.     Who  could  be  so  to  thee  ? 
And  how  my  darling  loved  me !    How  glad  she  was  to  hear 
My  footstep  on  the  threshold  when  I  came  back  last  year ! 
And  how  she  danced  with  pleasure  to  see  my  civic  crown. 
And  took  my  sword,  and  hung  it  up,  and  brought  me  forth  my  gown! 
Now,  all  those  things  are  over  — yes,  all  thy  pretty  ways. 
Thy  needlework,  thy  prattle,  thy  snatches  of  old  lays ; 
And  none  will  grieve  when  I  go  forth,  or  smile  when  I  return, 
Or  watch  beside  the  old  man's  bed,  or  weep  upon  his  urn. 
The  house  that  was  the  happiest  within  the  Koman  walls. 
The  house  that  envied  not  the  wealth  of  Capua's  marble  halls, 
Now,  for  the  brightness  of  thy  smile,  must  have  eternal  gloom, 
And  for  the  music  of  thy  voice,  the  silence  of  the  tomb. 
The  time  is  come.     See  how  he  points  his  eager  hand  this  way ! 
See  how  his  eyes  gloat  on  thy  grief,  like  a  kite's  upon  the  prey  ! 
With  all  his  wit,  he  little  deems,  that,  spurned,  betrayed,  bereft, 
Thy  father  hath  in  his  despair  one  fearful  refuge  left. 
He  little  deems  that  in  this  hand  I  clutch  what  still  can  save 
Thy  gentle  youth  from  taunts  and  blows,  the  portion  of  the  slave ; 
Yea,  and  from  nameless  evil,  that  passeth  taunt  and  blow  — 
Foul  outrage  which  thou  knowest  not,  which  thou  shalt  never  know. 
Then  clasp  me  round  the  neck  once  more,  and  give  me  one  more  kiss  ; 
And  now,  mine  own  dear  little  girl,  there  is  no  way  but  this." 
With  that  he  lifted  high  the  steel,  and  smote  her  in  the  side. 
And  in  her  blood  she  sank  to  earth,  and  with  one  sob  she  died. 

Then,  for  a  little  moment,  all  people  held  their  breath ; 
And  through  the  crowded  Forum  was  stillness  as  of  death ; 
And  in  another  moment  brake  forth  from  one  and  all 
A  cry  as  if  the  Volscians  were  coming  o'er  the  wall. 
Some  with  averted  faces  shrieking  fled  home  amain  ; 
Some  ran  to  call  a  leech  j  and  some  ran  to  lift  the  slain; 


o      ^ 

<       s 

^      '3 
Q      a. 

*1 


VIRGINIA.  467 

Some  felt  her  lips  and  little  wrist,  if  life  might  there  be  found; 
And  some  tore  up  their  garments  fast,  and  strove  to  stanch  the 

wound. 
In  vain  they  ran,  and  felt,  and  stanched ;  for  never  truer  blow 
That  good  right  arm  had  dealt  in  fight  against  a  Volscian  foe. 

When  Appius  Claudius  saw  that  deed,  he  shuddered  and  sank 

down, 
And  hid  his  face  some  little  space  with  the  corner  of  his  gown, 
Till,  with  white  lips  and  bloodshot  eyes,  Virginius  tottered  nigh, 
And  stood  before  the  judgment  seat,  and  held  the  knife  on  high. 
"  Oh  !  dwellers  in  the  nether  gloom,  avengers  of  the  slain. 
By  this  dear  blood  I  cry  to  you,  do  right  between  us  twain ; 
And  even  as  Appius  Claudius  hath  dealt  by  me  and  mine, 
Deal  you  by  Appius  Claudius  and  all  the  Claudian  line ! " 
So  spake  the  slayer  of  his  child,  and  turned,  and  went  his  way ; 
But  first  he  cast  one  haggard  glance  to  where  the  body  lay, 
And  writhed,  and  groaned  a  fearful  groan,  and  then,  with  steadfast 

feet, 
Strode  right  across  the  market  place  unto  the  Sacred  Street. 

Then  up  sprang  Appius  Claudius :  "  Stop  him  ;  alive  or  dead ! 
Ten  thousand  pounds  of  copper  to  the  man  who  brings  his  head." 
He  looked  upon  his  clients  ;  but  none  would  work  his  will. 
He  looked  upon  his  lictors ;  but  they  trembled,  and  stood  still. 
And,  as  Virginius  through  the  press  his  way  in  silence  cleft, 
Ever  the  mighty  multitude  fell  back  to  right  and  left. 
And  he  hath  passed  in  safety  unto  his  woeful  home. 
And  there  ta'en  horse  to  tell  the  camp  what  deeds  are  done  in  Rome. 

By  this  the  flood  of  people  was  swollen  from  every  side, 
And  streets  and  porches  roimd  were  filled  with  that  o'erflowing  tide ; 
And  close  around  the  body  gathered  a  little  train 
Of  them  that  were  the  nearest  and  dearest  to  the  slain. 
They  brought  a  bier,  and  hung  it  with  many  a  cypress  crown. 
And  gently  they  uplifted  her,  and  gently  laid  her  down. 
The  face  of  Appius  Claudius  wore  the  Claudian  scowl  and  sneer, 
And  in  the  Claudig-n  note  he  cried :  "  "What  doth  this  rabble  here  ? 
Have  they  no  crafts  to  mind  at  home,  that  hitherward  they  stray  ? 
Ho !  lictors,  clear  the  market  place,  and  fetch  the  corpse  away  !  " 
The  voice  of  grief  and  fury  till  then  had  not  been  loud ; 
But  a  deep  sullen  murmur  wandered  among  the  crowd, 
Like  the  moaning  noise  that  goes  before  the  whirlwind  on  the  deep, 
Or  the  growl  of  a  fierce  watchdog  but  half  aroused  from  sleep. 
But  when  the  lictors  at  that  word,  tall  yeomen  all  and  strong. 
Each  with  his  ax  and  sheaf  of  twigs,  went  down  into  the  throng, 


468  VIRGINIA. 

Those  old  men  say,  who  saw  that  day  of  sorrow  and  of  sin, 

That  in  the  Roman  Forum  was  never  such  a  din. 

The  wailing,  hooting,  cursing,  the  howls  of  grief  and  hate. 

Were  heard  beyond  the  Pincian  Hill,  beyond  the  Latin  Gate. 

But  close  around  the  body,  where  stood  the  little  train 

Of  them  that  were  the  nearest  and  dearest  to  the  slain, 

No  cries  were  there,  but  teeth  set  fast,  low  whispers  and  black  frowns, 

And  breaking  up  of  benches,  and  girding  up  of  gowns. 

'Twas  well  the  lictors  might  not  pierce  to  where  the  maiden  lay. 

Else  surely  had  they  been  all  twelve  torn  limb  from  limb  that  day. 

Right  glad  they  were  to  struggle  back,  blood  streaming  from  their 

heads. 
With  axes  all  in  splinters,  and  raiment  all  in  shreds. 
Then  Appius  Claudius  gnawed  his  lip,  and  the  blood  left  his  cheek ; 
And  thrice  he  beckoned  with  his  hand,  and  thrice  he  strove  to  speak ; 
And  thrice  the  tossing  Forum  set  up  a  frightful  yell ; 
*'  See,  see,  thou  dog !  what  thou  hast  done ;  and  hide  thy  shame  in 

hell ! 
Thou  that  wouldst  make  our  maidens  slaves  must  first  make  slaves 

of  men. 
Tribunes  !     Hurrah  for  Tribunes  !     Down  with  the  wicked  Ten ! " 
And  straightway,  thick  as  hailstones,  came  whizzing  through  the  air 
Pebbles,  and  bricks,  and  potsherds,  all  round  the  curule  chair : 
And  upon  Appius  Claudius  great  fear  and  trembling  came ; 
For  never  was  a  Claudius  yet  brave  against  aught  but  shame. 
Though  the  great  houses  love  us  not,  we  own,  to  do  them  right. 
That  the  great  houses,  all  save  one,  have  borne  them  well  in  fight. 
Still  Caius  of  Corioli,  his  triumphs  and  his  wrongs. 
His  vengeance  and  his  mercy,  live  in  our  camp-fire  songs. 
Beneath  the  yoke  of  Furius  oft  have  Gaul  and  Tuscan  bowed ; 
And  Rome  may  bear  the  pride  of  him  of  whom  herself  is  proud. 
But  evermore  a  Claudius  shrinks  from  a  stricken  field, 
And  changes  color  like  a  maid  at  sight  of  sword  and  shield. 
The  Claudian  triumphs  all  were  won  within  the  city  towers ; 
The  Claudian  yoke  was  never  pressed  on  any  necks  but  ours. 
A  Cossus,  like  a  wild  cat,  springs  ever  at  the  face ; 
A  Fabius  rushes  like  a  boar  against  the  shouting  chase ; 
But  the  vile  Claudian  litter,  raging  with  currish  spite. 
Still  yelps  and  snaps  at  those  who  run,  still  runs  from  those  who 

smite. 
So  now  'twas  seen  of  Appius.     When  stones  began  to  fly. 
He  shook,  and  crouched,  and  wrung  his  hands,  and  smote  upon  his 

thigh. 
"  Kind  clients,  honest  lictors,  stand  by  me  in  this  fray  ! 
Must  I  be  torn  in  pieces  ?     Home,  home,  the  nearest  way ! " 


LUCRETIA   AND   SEXTUS   TAKQUIX 

From  a  painting  by  Alex.  Cabanel 


tHE  STORY  OF  LUCRETIA.  469 

While  yet  he  spake,  and  looked  around  with  a  bewildered  stare, 
Four  sturdy  lictors  put  their  necks  beneath  the  curule  chair ; 
And  fourscore  clients  on  the  left,  and  fourscore  on  the  right, 
Arrayed  themselves  with  swords  and  staves,  and  loins  girt  up  for 

fight. 
But,  though  without  or  staff  or  sword,  so  furious  was  the  throng, 
That  scarce  the  train  with  might  and  main  could  bring  their  lord 

along. 
Twelve  times  the  crowd  made  at  him;  five  times  they  seized  his 

gown ; 
Small  chance  was  his  to  rise  again,  if  once  they  got  him  down. 
And  sharper  came  the  pelting  ;  and  evermore  the  yell  — 
''  Tribunes !  we  will  have  Tribunes  ! "  —  rose  with  a  louder  swell : 
And  the  chair  tossed  as  tosses  a  bark  with  tattered  sail 
When  raves  the  Adriatic  beneath  an  eastern  gale, 
When  the  Calabrian  seamarks  are  lost  in  clouds  of  spume. 
And  the  great  Thunder  Cape  has  donned  his  veil  of  inky  gloom. 
One  stone  hit  Appius  in  the  mouth,  and  one  beneath  the  ear ; 
And  ere  he  reached  Mount  Palatine,  he  swooned  with  pain  and  fear. 
His  cursed  head,  that  he  was  wont  to  hold  so  high  with  pride, 
Now,  like  a  drunken  man's,  hung  down,  and  swayed  from  side  to 

side; 
And  when  his  stout  retainers  had  brought  him  to  his  door. 
His  face  and  neck  were  all  one  cake  of  filth  and  clotted  gore. 
As  Appius  Claudius  was  that  day,  so  may  his  grandson  be ! 
God  send  Rome  one  such  other  sight,  and  send  me  there  to  see. 


THE  STORY   OF   LUCRETIA. 

By  LIVY. 

[Titus  Livius,  Roman  historian,  was  born  near  what  is  now  Padua,  b.c.  59. 
He  lived  at  Rome  under  Augustus,  making  so  splendid  a  literary  reputation  that 
one  man  went  from  Spain  to  Rome  and  back  merely  to  look  at  him;  but  he  retired 
to  his  native  town,  and  died  there  b.c.  17.  His  enduring  repute  rests  on  his 
History  of  Rome  from  its  foundation  to  the  death  of  Drusus,  in  one  hundred  and 
forty-two  books,  of  which  only  thirty-five  are  extant.] 

As  it  commGnly  happens  in  standing  camps,  the  war  being 
rather  tedious  than  violent,  furloughs  were  easily  obtained,  more 
so  by  the  officers,  however,  than  the  common  soldiers.  The 
young  princes  sometimes  spent  their  leisure  hours  in  feasting 
and  entertainments.  One  day,  as  they  were  drinking  in  the  tent 
of  Sextus  Tarquin,  where  Collatinus  Tarquinius,  the  son  of 


4t6  THE  STORY  OF  LUCRETIA. 

Egerius,  was  also  at  supper,  mention  was  made  of  wives.  Every 
one  commended  his  own  in  an  extravagant  manner,  till  a  dis- 
pute arising  about  it,  Collatinus  said :  "  There  was  no  occasion 
for  words,  that  it  might  be  known  in  a  few  hours  how  far  his 
Lucretia  excelled  all  the  rest.  If,  then,"  added  he,  "  we  have 
any  share  of  the  vigor  of  youth,  let  us  mount  our  horses  and 
examine  the  behavior  oi  our  wives ;  that  must  be  most  satis- 
factory to  every  one,  which  shall  meet  his  eyes  on  the  unex- 
pected arrival  of  the  husband." 

They  were  heated  with  wine :  "  Come  on,  then,"  say  all. 
They  immediately  galloped  to  Rome,  where  they  arrived  in  the 
dusk  of  the  evening.  From  thence  they  went  to  Collatia,  where 
they  find  Lucretia,  not  like  the  king's  daughters-in-law,  whom 
they  had  seen  spending  their  time  in  luxurious  entertainments 
with  their  equals,  but,  though  at  an  advanced  time  of  night, 
employed  at  her  wool,  sitting  in  the  middle  of  the  house  amidst 
her  maids  working  around  her.  The  merit  of  the  contest  re- 
garding the  ladies  was  assigned  to  Lucretia.  Her  husband  on 
his  arrival,  and  the  Tarquinii,  were  kindly  received ;  the  hus- 
band, proud  of  his  victory,  gives  the  young  princes  a  polite  in- 
vitation. There  the  villainous  passion  for  violating  Lucretia 
by  force  seizes  Sextus  Tarquin ;  both  her  beauty  and  her  ap- 
proved purity  act  as  incentives.  And  then,  after  this  youthful 
frolic  of  the  night,  they  return  to  the  camp. 

A  few  days  after,  without  the  knowledge  of  Collatinus,  Sex- 
tus came  to  Collatia  with  one  attendant  only;  where,  being 
kindly  received  by  them,  as  not  being  aware  of  his  intention, 
after  he  had  been  conducted  after  supper  into  the  guests'  cham- 
ber, burning  with  passion,  when  everything  around  seemed 
sufficiently  secure,  and  all  fast  asleep,  he  comes  to  Lucretia,  as 
she  lay  asleep,  with  a  naked  sword,  and  with  his  left  hand 
pressing  down  the  woman's  breast,  he  says :  "  Be  silent,  Lu- 
cretia ;  I  am  Sextus  Tarquin ;  I  have  a  sword  in  my  hand  ; 
you  shall  die,  if  you  utter  a  word."  When,  awaking  terrified 
from  sleep,  the  woman  beheld  no  aid,  impending  death  nigh  at 
hand ;  then  Tarquin  acknowledged  his  passion,  entreated,  mixed 
threats  with  entreaties,  tried  the  female's  mind  in  every  possi- 
ble way.  When  he  saw  her  inflexible,  and  that  she  was  not 
moved  even  by  the  terror  of  death,  he  added  to  terror  the  tlireat 
of  dishonor:  he  says  that  he  will  lay  a  murdered  slave  naked 
by  her  side  when  dead,  so  that  she  may  be  said  to  have  been 
slain  in  infamous  adultery. 


THE  STORY  OF  LUCRETIA.  471 

When  by  the  terror  of  this  disgrace  his  lust,  as  it  were  vic- 
torious, had  overcome  her  inflexible  chastity,  and  Tarquin  had 
departed,  exulting  in  having  triumphed  over  a  lady's  honor, 
Lucretia,  in  melancholy  distress  at  so  dreadful  a  misfortune, 
dispatches  the  same  messenger  to  Rome  to  her  father,  and  to 
Ardea  to  her  husband,  that  they  would  come  each  with  one 
trusty  friend ;  that  it  was  necessary  to  do  so,  and  that  quickly. 
Sp.  Lucretius  comes  with  P.  Valerius,  the  son  of  Volesus,  Col- 
latinus  with  L.  Junius  Brutus,  with  whom,  as  he  was  returning 
to  Rome,  he  happened  to  be  met  by  his  wife's  messenger.  They 
find  Lucretia  sitting  in  her  chamber  in  sorrowful  dejection. 
On  the  arrival  of  her  friends  the  tears  burst  from  her  eyes ;  and 
to  her  husband,  on  his  inquiry  "  whether  all  was  right,"  she 
says :  "  By  no  means,  for  what  can  be  right  with  a  woman  who 
has  lost  her  honor  ?  The  traces  of  another  man  are  on  your 
bed,  Collatinus.  But  the  body  only  has  been  violated,  the 
mind  is  guiltless  ;  death  shall  be  my  witness.  But  give  me 
your  right  hands,  and  your  honor,  that  the  adulterer  shall  not 
come  off  unpunished.  It  is  Sextus  Tarquin  who,  an  enemy  in 
the  guise  of  a  guest,  has  borne  away  hence  a  triumph  fatal  to 
me  and  to  himself,  if  you  are  men." 

They  all  pledge  their  honor  ;  they  attempt  to  console  her, 
distracted  as  she  was  in  mind,  by  turning  away  the  guilt  from 
her,  constrained  by  force,  on  the  perpetrator  of  the  crime ;  that 
it  is  the  mind  sins,  not  the  body ;  and  that  where  intention 
was  wanting  guilt  could  not  be.  "  It  is  for  you  to  see,"  says 
she,  "  what  is  due  to  him.  As  for  me,  though  I  acquit  myself 
of  guilt,  from  punishment  I  do  not  discharge  myself;  nor  shall 
any  woman  survive  her  dishonor  pleading  the  example  of 
Lucretia."  The  knife,  which  she  kept  concealed  beneath  her 
garment,  she  plunges  into  her  heart,  and  falling  forward  on  the 
wound,  she  dropped  down  expiring.  The  husband  and  father 
shriek  aloud. 

Brutus,  while  they  were  overpowered  with  grief,  having 
drawn  the  knife  out  of  the  woimd,  and  holding  it  up  before  him 
reeking  with  blood,  said  :  "  By  this  blood,  most  pure  before 
the  pollution  of  royal  villainy,  I  swear,  and  I  call  you,  O  gods, 
to  witness  my  oath,  that  I  shall  pursue  Lucius  Tarquin  the 
Proud,  his  wicked  wife,  and  all  their  race,  with  fire,  sword,  and 
all  other  means  in  my  power  ;  nor  shall  I  ever  suffer  them  or 
any  other  to  reign  at  Rome."  Then  he  gave  the  knife  to  Col- 
latinus, and  after  him  to  Lucretius  and  Valerius,  who  were 


472  THE  STORY  OF  LUuRETIA. 

surprised  at  such  extraordinary  mind  in  the  breast  of  Brutus. 
However,  they  all  take  the  oath  as  they  were  directed,  and, 
converting  their  sorrow  into  rage,  follow  Brutus  as  their  leader, 
who  from  that  time  ceased  not  to  solicit  them  to  abolish  the 
regal  power.  They  carry  Lucretia's  body  from  her  own  house 
and  convey  it  into  the  Forum,  and  assemble  a  number  of  per- 
sons, by  the  strangeness  and  atrocity  of  the  extraordinary 
occurrence,  as  usually  happens.  They  complain,  each  for  him- 
self, of  the  royal  villainy  and  violence.  Both  the  grief  of  the 
father  moves  them,  as  also  Brutus,  the  reprover  of  their  tears 
and  unavailing  complaints,  and  their  adviser  to  take  up  arms 
against  those  who  dared  to  treat  them  as  enemies,  as  would  be- 
come men  and  Romans.  Each  most  spirited  of  the  youth  vol- 
untarily presents  himself  in  arms  ;  the  rest  of  the  youth  follow 
also.  From  thence,  after  leaving  an  adequate  garrison  at  the 
gates  at  Collatia,  and  having  appointed  sentinels,  so  that  no  one 
might  give  intelligence  of  the  disturbance  to  the  king's  party, 
the  rest  set  out  for  Rome  in  arms  under  the  conduct  of  Brutus. 
When  they  arrived  there,  the  armed  multitude  cause  panic 
and  confusion  wherever  they  go.  Again,  when  they  see  the 
principal  men  of  the  state  placing  themselves  at  their  head, 
they  think  that,  whatever  it  may  be,  it  was  not  without  good 
reason.  Nor  does  the  heinousness  of  the  circumstance  excite 
less  violent  emotions  at  Rome  than  it  had  done  at  Collatia; 
accordingly  they  run  from  all  parts  of  the  city  into  the  Forum, 
whither,  when  they  came,  the  public  crier  summoned  them  to 
attend  the  tribune  of  the  celeres,  with  which  office  Brutus  hap- 
pened to  be  at  that  time  vested.  There  a  harangue  was  de- 
livered by  him,  by  no  means  of  that  feeling  and  capacity  which 
had  been  counterfeited  up  to  that  day,  concerning  the  violence 
and  lust  of  Sextus  Tarquin,  the  horrid  violation  of  Lucretia, 
and  her  lamentable  death,  the  bereavement  of  Tricipitinus,  to 
whom  the  cause  of  his  daughter's  death  was  more  exasperating 
and  deplorable  than  the  death  itself.  To  this  was  added  the 
haughty  insolence  of  the  king  himself,  and  the  sufferings  and 
toils  of  the  people,  buried  in  the  earth  in  cleansing  sinks  and 
sewers  ;  that  the  Romans,  the  conquerors  of  all  the  surrounding 
states,  instead  of  warriors  had  become  laborers  and  stonecut- 
ters. The  unnatural  murder  of  King  Servius  Tullius  was 
dwelt  on,  and  his  daughter's  driving  over  the  body  of  her 
father  in  her  impious  chariot,  and  the  gods  who  avenge  parents 
were  invoked  by  him. 


THE  WAR  SONGS  OF  TYRTiEUS.  473 

By  stating  these  and  other,  I  suppose,  more  exasperating 
circumstances,  which,  though  by  no  means  easily  detailed  by 
writers,  the  heinousness  of  the  case  suggested  at  the  time,  he 
persuaded  the  multitude,  already  incensed,  to  deprive  the  king 
of  his  authority,  and  to  order  the  banishment  of  L.  Tarquin, 
with  his  wife  and  children.  He  himself,  having  selected  and 
armed  some  of  the  young  men,  who  readily  gave  in  their  names, 
set  out  for  Ardea  to  the  camp,  to  excite  the  arm}^  against  the 
king  :  the  command  in  the  city  he  leaves  to  Lucretius,  who  had 
been  already  appointed  prefect  of  the  city  by  the  king.  Dur- 
ing this  tumult  Tullia  fled  from  her  house,  both  men  and 
women  cursing  her  wherever  she  went,  and  invoking  on  her 
the  furies,  the  avengers  of  parents. 

News  of  these  transactions  having  reached  the  camp,  when 
the  king,  alarmed  at  this  sudden  revolution,  was  going  to  Rome  to 
quell  the  commotions,  Brutus,  for  he  had  notice  of  his  approach, 
turned  out  of  the  way,  that  he  might  not  meet  him ;  *and  much 
about  the  same  time  Brutus  and  Tarquin  arrived  by  different 
routes,  the  one  at  Ardea,  the  other  at  Rome.  The  gates  were 
shut  against  Tarquin,  and  an  act  of  banishment  passed  against 
him ;  the  deliverer  of  the  state  the  camp  received  with  great 
joy,  and  the  king's  sons  were  expelled.  Two  of  them  followed 
their  father,  and  went  into  banishment  to  Caere,  a  city  of  Etru- 
ria.  Sextus  Tarquin,  having  gone  to  Gabii,  as  to  his  own  king- 
dom, was  slain  by  the  avengers  of  the  old  feuds,  which  he  had 
raised  against  himself  by  his  rapines  and  murders.  Lucius 
Tarquin  the  Proud  reigned  twenty-five  years :  the  regal  form 
of  government  continued  from  the  building  of  the  city  to  this 
period  of  its  deliverance,  two  hundred  and  forty-four  years. 
Two  consuls,  viz.,  Lucius  Junius  Brutus  and  Lucius  Tarquinius 
Collatinus,  were  elected  by  the  prefect  of  the  city  at  the  comi- 
tia  by  centuries,  according  to  the  commentaries  of  Servius 
Tullius. 


THE  WAR  SONGS   OF  TYRT^US. 

Translated  by  POLWHELE. 

[Ttrt^us,  Greek  elegiac  poet,  was  a  native  of  Attica,  and  lived  about  b.c.  700 
The  Lacedaemonians  applied  to  the  Athenians  for  a  commander  to  lead  them 
in  the  second  Messenian  war.     They  were  presented  with  Tyrtseus.     The  war 


4T4  THE  WAR  SONGS  OF  TYRTiEUS. 

lyrics  which  he  composed  so  animated  the  flagging  spirits  of  the  Spartan  troops 
that  they  renewed  the  contest,  and  ultimately  secured  a  complete  triumph  to 
their  arms.] 

If,  fighting  for  liis  dear  paternal  soil, 

The  soldier  in  the  front  of  battle  fall ; 
*Tis  not  in  fickle  fortune  to  despoil 

His  store  of  fame,  that  shines  the  charge  of  all. 

But  if,  opprest  by  penury,  he  rove 

Far  from  his  native  town  and  fertile  plain, 

And  lead  the  sharer  of  his  fondest  love. 
In  youth  too  tender,  with  her  infant  train ; 

And  if  his  aged  mother  —  his  shrunk  sire 

Join  the  sad  group ;  so  many  a  bitter  ill 
Against  the  houseless  family  conspire. 

And  all  the  measure  of  the  wretched  fill. 


Pale,  shivering  want,  companion  of  his  way, 

He  meets  the  luster  of  no  pitying  eye ; 
To  hunger  and  dire  infamy  a  prey  — 

Dark  hatred  scowls,  and  scorn  quick  passes  by. 

Alas !  no  traits  of  beauty  or  of  birth  — 

No  blush  now  lingers  in  his  sunken  face ; 
Dies  every  feeling  (as  he  roams  o'er  earth) 

Of  shame  transmitted  to  a  wondering  race. 

But  be  it  ours  to  guard  this  hallowed  spot. 
To  shield  the  tender  offspring  and  the  wife ; 

Here  steadily  await  our  destined  lot, 

And,  for  their  sakes,  resign  the  gift  of  life. 

Ye  valorous  youths,  in  squadrons  close  combined, 

Kush  with  a  noble  impulse  to  the  fight ! 
Let  not  a  thought  of  life  glance  o'er  your  mind. 

And  not  a  momentary  dream  of  flight. 

Watch  your  hoar  seniors,  bent  by  feeble  age. 

Whose  weak  knees  fail,  though  strong  their  ardor  glows ; 

Nor  leave  such  warriors  to  the  battle's  rage. 
But  round  their  awful  spirits  firmly  close. 


IfHE  WAR  SONGS  OF  TYRTiEUS.  475 

Base,  base  the  sight,  if,  foremost  on  the  plain. 
In  dust  and  carnage  the  fallen  veteran  roll ; 

And  ah !  while  youths  shrink  back,  unshielded,  stain 
His  silver  temples  and  breathe  out  his  soul ! 

Thus,  then,  bold  youth,  the  rules  of  valor  learn : 
Stand  firm,  and  fix  on  earth  thy  rooted  feet ; 

Bite  with  thy  teeth  thy  eager  lips ;  and  stern. 
In  conscious  strength,  the  rushing  onset  meet : 

And  shelter  with  thy  broad  and  bossy  shield 

Thy  thighs  and  shins,  thy  shoulders  and  thy  breast  j 

The  long  spear  ponderous  in  thy  right  hand  wield. 
And  on  thy  head,  high  nod  the  dreadful  crest. 

Mark  well  the  lessons  of  the  warlike  art, 

That  teach  thee,  if  the  shield  with  ample  round 

Protect  thy  bosom,  to  approach  the  dart, 

Nor  choose,  with  timid  care,  the  distant  ground. 

But,  for  close  combat  with  the  fronting  foe, 

Elate,  in  valorous  attitude  draw  near ; 
And  aiming,  hand  to  hand,  the  fatal  blow, 

Brandish  thy  tempered  blade  or  massy  spear. 

Yes !  for  the  rage  of  stubborn  grapple  steeled. 
Grasp  the  sword's  hilt,  and  couch  the  long-beat  lance ; 

Foot  to  the  foeman's  foot,  and  shield  to  shield, 
Crest  even  to  crest,  and  helm  to  helm,  advance. 

Each  mortal,  though  he  boasts  celestial  fires, 

Slave  to  the  sovereign  destiny  of  death. 
Or  mid  the  carnage  of  the  plain  expires. 

Or  yields,  unwept,  at  home  his  coward  breath. 

Yet  sympathy  attends  the  brave  man's  bier ; 

Sees  on  each  wound  the  balmy  grief  bestowed ; 
And,  as  in  death  the  universal  tear, 

Through  life  inspires  the  homage  of  a  god. 

For  like  a  turret  his  proud  glories  rise, 

And  stand,  above  the  rival's  reach,  alone ; 
While  millions  hail,  with  fond,  adoring  eyes, 

The  deeds  of  many  a  hero  meet  in  one. 


4T6  OF  J'EMiNlNE   SUBTLEtif. 

OF  FEMININE   SUBTLETY. 

(From  the  "Gesta  Eomanorum.") 

King  Darius  was  a  circumspect  prince,  and  had  three  sons, 
whom  he  much  loved.  On  his  deathbed  he  bequeathed  the 
kingdom  to  his  firstborn;  to  the  second,  all  his  own  personal 
acquisitions ;  and  to  the  third  a  golden  ring,  a  necklace,  and  a 
piece  of  valuable  cloth.  The  ring  had  the  power  to  render  any 
one  who  bore  it  on  his  finger  beloved ;  and,  moreover,  obtained 
for  him  whatsoever  he  sought.  The  necklace  enabled  the  per- 
son who  wore  it  upon  his  breast  to  accomplish  his  heart's  de- 
sire ;  and  the  cloth  had  such  virtue,  that  whosoever  sat  upon  it 
and  thought  where  he  would  be  carried,  there  he  instantly  found 
himself.  These  three  gifts  the  king  conferred  upon  the  younger 
son,  for  the  purpose  of  aiding  his  studies ;  but  the  mother  re- 
tained them  until  he  was  of  a  proper  age.  Soon  after  the 
bequests,  the  old  monarch  gave  up  the  ghost,  and  was  magnifi- 
cently buried.  The  two  elder  sons  then  took  possession  of 
their  legacies,  and  the  mother  of  the  younger  delivered  to  him 
the  ring,  with  the  caution  that  he  should  beware  of  the  arti- 
fices of  women,  or  he  would  otherwise  lose  it.  Jonathan  (for 
that  was  his  name)  took  the  ring,  and  went  zealously  to  Ms 
studies,  in  which  he  made  himself  a  proficient.  But  walking 
on  a  certain  day  through  the  street,  he  observed  a  very  beauti- 
ful woman,  with  whom  he  was  so  much  struck,  that  he  took  her 
to  him.  He  continued,  however,  to  use  the  ring,  and  found 
favor  with  every  one,  insomuch  that  whatever  he  desired  he 
had. 

Now,  the  lady  was  greatly  surprised  that  he  lived  so  splen- 
didly, having  no  possessions ;  and  once,  when  he  was  particu- 
larly exhilarated,  tenderly  embraced  him,  and  protested  that 
there  was  not  a  creature  under  the  sun  whom  she  loved  so  much 
as  she  did  him.  He  ought  therefore,  she  thought,  to  tell  her 
by  what  means  he  supported  his  magnificence.  He,  suspecting 
nothing,  explained  the  virtues  of  the  ring ;  and  she  begged 
that  he  would  be  careful  of  so  invaluable  a  treasure.  "  But," 
added  she,  "  in  your  daily  intercourse  with  men  you  may  lose 
it :  place  it  in  my  custody,  I  beseech  you."  Overcome  by  her 
entreaties,  he  gave  up  the  ring ;  and  when  his  necessities  came 
upon  him,  she  asserted  loudly  that  thieves  had  carried  it  off. 


OF  FEMININE  SUBTLETY.  477 

He  lamented  bitterly  that  now  he  had  not  any  means  of  sub- 
sistence ;  and,  hastening  to  his  mother,  stated  how  he  had  lost 
his  ring.  "My  son,"  said  she,  "I  forewarned  you  of  what 
would  happen,  but  you  have  paid  no  attention  to  my  advice. 
Here  is  the  necklace  ;  preserve  it  more  carefully.  If  it  be  lost, 
you  will  forever  want  a  thing  of  the  greatest  honor  and  profit." 
Jonathan  took  the  necklace,  and  returned  to  his  studies.  At 
the  gate  of  the  city  his  mistress  met  him,  and  received  him  with 
the  appearance  of  great  joy.  He  remained  with  her,  wearing  the 
necklace  upon  his  breast ;  and  whatever  he  thought,  he  pos- 
sessed. As  before,  he  lived  so  gloriously  that  the  lady  won- 
dered, well  knowing  that  he  had  neither  gold  nor  silver.  She 
guessed,  therefore,  that  he  carried  another  talisman ;  and  cun- 
ningly drew  from  him  the  history  of  the  wonder-working  neck- 
lace. "  Why,"  said  the  lady,  "  do  you  always  take  it  with  you  ? 
You  may  think  in  one  moment  more  than  can  be  made  use  of 
in  a  year.  Let  me  keep  it."  "  No,"  replied  he,  "  you  will  lose 
the  necklace,  as  you  lost  the  ring ;  and  thus  I  shall  receive  the 
greatest  possible  injury."  "  O  my  lord,"  replied  she,  "I  have 
learnt,  by  having  had  the  custody  of  the  ring,  how  to  secure 
the  necklace ;  and  I  assure  you  no  one  can  possibly  get  it  from 
me."  The  silly  youth  confided  in  her  words,  and  delivered  the 
necklace. 

Now,  when  all  he  possessed  was  expended,  he  sought  his  talis- 
man ;  and  she,  as  before,  solemnly  protested  that  it  had  been 
stolen.  This  threw  Jonathan  into  the  greatest  distress.  "  Am 
I  mad,"  cried  he,  "  that  after  the  loss  of  my  ring  I  should  give 
up  the  necklace  ?  "  Immediately  hastening  to  his  mother,  he 
related  to  her  the  whole  circumstance.  Not  a  little  afflicted,  she 
said,  "  Oh,  my  dear  child,  why  didst  thou  place  confidence  in 
the  woman?  People  will  believe  thee  a  fool:  but  be  wise,  for 
I  have  nothing  more  for  you  than  the  valuable  cloth  which  your 
father  left :  and  if  you  lose  that,  it  will  be  quite  useless  return- 
ing to  me."  Jonathan  received  the  cloth,  and  again  went  to 
his  studies.  The  harlot  seemed  very  joyful ;  and  he,  spreading 
out  the  cloth,  said,  "  My  dear  girl,  my  father  bequeathed  me 
this  beautiful  cloth;  sit  down  upon  it  by  my  side."  She  com- 
plied, and  Jonathan  secretly  wished  that  they  were  in  a  desert 
place,  out  of  the  reach  of  man.  The  talisman  took  effect ;  they 
were  carried  into  a  forest  on  the  utmost  boundary  of  the  world, 
where  there  was  not  a  trace  of  humanity.  The  lady  wept  bit- 
terly, but  Jonathan  paid  no  regard  to  her  te^rs.     He  solemnly 


478  OF  FEmNINE  SUBTLETY. 

vowed  to  Heaven  that  he  would  leave  her  a  prey  to  the  wild 
beasts,  unless  she  restored  his  ring  and  necklace ;  and  this  she 
promised  to  do.     Presently,  yielding  to  her  request,  the  foolish 
Jonathan  discovered  the  power  of  the  cloth;  and,  in  a  little 
time  being  weary,  placed  his  head  in  her  lap  and  slept.     In  the 
interim,  she  contrived  to  draw  away  that  part  of  the  cloth  upon 
which  he  reposed,  and  sitting  upon  it  alone,  Avished  herself 
where  she  had  been  in  the  morning.     The  cloth  immediately 
executed  her  wishes,  and  left  Jonathan  slumbering  in  the  for- 
est.    When  he  awoke,  and  found  his  cloth  and  his  mistress 
departed,  he  burst  into  an  agony  of  tears.     Where  to  bend  his 
steps  he  knew  not ;  but  arising,  and  fortifying  himself  with  the 
sign  of  the  cross,  he  walked  along  a  certain  path,  until  he 
reached  a  deep  river,  over  which  he  must  pass.     But  he  found 
it  so  bitter  and  hot,  that  it  even  separated  the  flesh  from  the 
bones.     Full  of  grief,  he  conveyed  away  a  small  quantity  of 
that  water,  and  when  he  had  proceeded  a  little  further,  felt  hun- 
gry.    A  tree  upon  which  hung  the  most  tempting  fruit  invited 
him  to  partake ;  he  did  so,  and  immediately  became  a  leper. 
He  gathered  also  a  little  of  the  fruit,  and  conveyed  it  with 
him.     After  traveling  for  some  time,  he  arrived  at  another 
stream,  of  which  the  virtue  was  such,  that  it  restored  the  flesh 
to  his  feet ;  and  eating  of  a  second  tree,  he  was  cleansed  from 
his  leprosy.     Some  of  that  fruit  he  likewise  took  along  with 
him. 

Walking  in  this  manner  day  after  day,  he  came  at  length 
to  a  castle,  where  he  was  met  by  two  men,  who  inquired  what 
he  was.  "  I  am  a  physician,"  answered  he.  "  This  is  lucky," 
said  the  others;  "  the  king  of  this  country  is  a  leper,  and  if  you 
are  able  to  cure  him  of  his  leprosy,  vast  rewards  will  be  assigned 
you."  He  promised  to  try  his  skill  ;  and  they  led  him  forward 
to  the  king.  The  result  was  fortunate  ;  he  supplied  him  with 
the  fruit  of  the  second  tree,  and  the  leprosy  left  him ;  and 
washing  the  flesh  with  the  water,  it  was  completely  restored. 
Being  rewarded  most  bountifully,  he  embarked  on  board  a  ves- 
sel for  his  native  city.  There  he  circulated  a  report  that  a 
great  physician  was  arrived  ;  and  the  lady  who  had  cheated  him 
of  the  talismans,  being  sick  unto  death,  immediately  sent  for 
him.  Jonathan  was  so  much  disguised  that  she  retained  no 
recollection  of  him,  but  he  very  well  remembered  her.  As 
soon  as  he  arrived,  he  declared  that  medicine  would  avail  noth- 
ing, unless  she  first  confessed  her  sins  j  and  if  she  had  defrauded 


THE    NYMPHS 
From  a  painting  by  A.  Rieger 


NYMPHS.  479 

any  one,  it  must  be  restored.  The  lady,  reduced  to  the  very 
verge  of  the  grave,  in  a  low  voice  acknowledged  that  she  had 
cheated  Jonathan  of  the  ring,  necklace,  and  cloth;  and  had 
left  him  in  a  desert  place  to  be  devoured  by  wild  beasts.  When 
she  had  said  this,  the  pretended  physician  exclaimed,  "Tell 
me,  lady,  where  these  talismans  are?"  "In  that  chest,"  an- 
swered she,  and  delivered  up  the  keys,  by  which  he  obtained 
possession  of  his  treasures.  Jonathan  then  gave  her  of  the 
fruit  which  produced  leprosy  ;  and,  after  she  had  eaten,  of  the 
water  which  separated  the  flesh  from  the  bones.  The  conse- 
quence was  that  she  was  excruciated  with  agony,  and  shortly 
died.  Jonathan  hastened  to  his  mother,  and  the  whole  kingdom 
rejoiced  at  his  return.  He  told  by  what  means  God  had  freed 
him  from  such  various  dangers  ;  and,  having  lived  many  years, 
ended  his  days  in  peace. 

Application. 

My  beloved,  the  king  is  Christ;  the  queen  mother,  the 
Church ;  and  the  three  sons,  men  living  in  the  world.  The 
third  son  is  any  good  Christian  ;  the  ring  is  faith  ;  the  neck- 
lace is  grace  or  hope  ;  and  the  cloth,  charity.  The  concubine 
is  the  flesh  ;  the  bitter  water  is  repentance,  and  the  first  fruit 
is  remorse  ;  the  second  water  is  confession,  and  the  second  fruit 
is  prayer,  fasting,  and  almsgiving.  The  leprous  king  is  any 
sinful  man  ;  the  ship  in  which  Jonathan  embarked  is  the  divine 
command. 


NYMPHS. 

By  THOIMAS  WADE. 

[1805-1876.] 

Beautiful  Things  of  Old !  why  are  ye  gone  forever 
Out  of  the  earth  ?     0,  why  ? 
Dryad  and  Oread,  and  ye,  Nereids  bhie ! 
Whose  presence  woods  and  hills  and  sea  rocks  knew, 
Ye  have  passed  from  Faith's  dim  eye, 
And  save  by  poet's  lip  your  names  are  honored  never. 


480  NYMPHS. 

The  sun  on  the  calm  sea  sheddeth  a  golden  glory, 
The  rippling  waves  break  whitely, 
The  sands  are  level  and  the  shingle  bright, 
The  green  cliffs  wear  the  pomp  of  heaven's  light, 
And  seaweeds  idle  lightly 
Over  the  rocks  ;  but  ye  appear  not,  Dreams  of  Story  ! 


!N"ymphs  of  the  Sea !  Faith's  heart  hath  fled  from  ye  —  hath  fled ; 
Ye  are  her  boasted  scorn  ; 
Save  to  the  poet's  soul,  the  sculptor's  thought, 
The  painter's  fancy,  ye  are  now  as  naught : 
Mute  is  old  Triton's  horn. 
And  with  it  half  the  voice  of  the  Old  World  is  dead. 


Our  creeds  are  not  less  vain  ;  our  sleeping  life  still  dreams ; 
The  present,  like  the  past, 
Passes  in  joy  and  sorrow,  love  and  shame ; 
Truth  dwells  as  deep  ;  wisdom  is  yet  a  name  ; 
Life  still  to  death  flies  fast ; 
And  the  same  shrouded  light  from  the  dark  future  gleams. 


Oh,  for  a  sweet  lagoon  guarded  with  coral  walls, 
\Yhere,  in  the  crystal  sea, 
Mermaid  and  singing  siren  shout  and  splash, 
Nymph  and  peerless  Nereid  dive  and  dash, 
Whose  laughter  would  not  be 
Echoes  of  faiths  long  dead  in  Time's  decaying  halls. 


But  the  old  story  told  and  men's  souls  thrilled  once  more 
With  that  immortal  throng 
Of  fabled  forms  that  dwell  in  forests  wide. 
Of  glorious  shapes  that  breast  the  flowing  tide. 
The  sirens  and  their  song  — 
Oh,  shall  such  happiness  return  to  Earth's  beclouded  shore  ? 


Spirits  of  vale  and  hill,  of  river  and  of  ocean,  — 
Ye  thousand  deities ! 
Over  the  earth  be  president  again  ; 
And  dance  upon  the  mountain  and  the  main 
In  view  of  mortal  eyes  : 
Love  us,  and  be  beloved,  with  the  Old  Time's  devotion  ! 


THE   GORGON'S   HEAD.  481 

THE   GORGON'S    HEAD. 

By   NATHANIEL  HAWTHORNE. 

[Nathaniel  Hawthorne:  American  story-writer;  born  at  Salem,  Mass., 
July  4,  1804  ;  died  at  Plymouth,  N.H.,  May  19,  18G4.  His  official  positions,  in 
the  custom  house  at  Salem  and  as  United  States  consul  at  Liverpool,  furnished 
him  with  many  opportunities  for  the  study  of  human  nature.  His  literary 
popularity  was  of  slow  gro\yth,  but  was  founded  on  the  eternal  verities.  His 
most  famous  novels  are  "The  Scarlet  Letter,"  1850  ;  "The  House  of  the  Seven 
Gables,"  1851  ;  "  The  Blithedale  Romance,"  1852  ;  "  The  Marble  Faun,"  1860  ; 
"  Septimius  Felton,"  posthumous.  He  wrote  a  great  number  of  short  stories, 
inimitable  in  style  and  full  of  weird  imagination.  "Twice-told  Tales."  first 
series,  appeared  in  1837;  "The  Snow  Image  and  Other  Twice-told  Tales,"  in 
1852  ;  "Tanglewood  Tales,"  in  1853.] 

The  story  of  Perseus,  like  the  other  classic  legends  that 
treat  of  the  fundamental  facts  of  human  life,  is  marvelously 
independent  of  all  temporary  modes  and  circumstances.  The 
origin  of  these  immortal  fables  is  lost  in  the  depths  of  time, 
and  as  long  as  man  exists  they  can  never  perish,  for  by  their 
indestructibility  itself,  they  are  legitimate  subjects  for  every  age 
to  clothe  with  its  own  garniture  of  manners  and  sentiments, 
and  to  imbue  them  with  its  own  morality.  No  epoch  of  time 
can  claim  a  copyright  in  these  powerful  interpretations  of  life. 

Perseus  was  the  son  of  Danae,  Avho  Avas  the  daugliter  of  a 
king,  and  when  Perseus  was  a  very  little  boy  some  wicked 
people  put  his  mother  and  himself  into  a  chest  and  set  them 
afloat  upon  the  sea.  The  wind  blew  freshly  and  drove  the 
<?hest  away  from  the  shore,  and  the  uneasy  billows  tossed  it 
up  and  down,  while  Danae  clasped  her  child  closely  to  her 
bosom,  and  dreaded  that  some  big  wave  would  dash  its  foamy 
crest  over  them  both.  The  chest  sailed  on,  however,  and 
neither  sank  nor  was  upset,  until,  when  night  was  coming,  it 
floated  so  near  an  island  that  it  got  entangled  in  a  fisherman's 
nets  and  was  drawn  out  high  and  dry  upon  the  sand.  The 
island  was  called  Seriphus,  and  it  was  reigned  over  by  King 
Polydectes,  v/ho  happened  to  be  the  fisherman's  brother. 

This  fisherman,  I  am  glad  to  tell  you,  was  an  exceedingly 
humane  and  upright  man.  He  showed  great  kindness  to  Danae 
and  her  little  boy,  and  continued  to  befriend  them  until  Per- 
seus had  grown  to  be  a  handsome  youth,  very  strong  and  active 
and  skillful  in  the  use  of  arms.  Long  before  this  time  King 
Polydectes  had  seen  the  two  strangers  —  the  mother  and  her 


482  THE  GORGON'S  HEAD. 

child—  who  had  come  to  his  dominions  in  a  floating  chest.  As 
he  was  not  good  and  kind  like  his  brother  the  fisherman,  but 
extremely  wicked,  he  resolved  to  send  Perseus  on  a  dangerous 
enterprise  in  which  he  would  probably  be  killed,  and  then  to 
do  some  great  mischief  to  Danae  herself.  So  this  bad-hearted 
kino-  spent  a  long  while  in  considering  what  was  the  most  dan- 
gerous thing  that  a  young  man  could  possibly  undertake  to 
perform.  At  last,  having  hit  upon  an  enterprise  that  promised 
to  turn  out  as  fatally  as  he  desired,  he  sent  for  the  youthful 
Perseus. 

The  young  man  came  to  the  palace,  and  found  the  king 
sitting  upon  his  throne. 

"  Perseus,"  said  King  Polydectes,  smiling  craftily  upon  him, 
"you  are  grown  up  a  line  young  man.  You  and  your  good 
mother  have  received  a  great  deal  of  kindness  from  myself,  as 
well  as  from  my  worthy  brother  the  fisherman,  and  I  suppose 
you  would  not  be  sorry  to  repay  some  of  it." 

"Please,  your  majesty,"  answered  Perseus,  "I  would  will- 
ingly risk  my  life  to  do  so." 

"  Well,  then,"  continued  the  king,  still  with  a  cunning  smile 
on  his  lips,  "  I  have  a  little  adventure  to  propose  to  you  ;  and, 
as  you  are  a  brave  and  enterprising  youth,  you  will  doubtless 
look  upon  it  as  a  great  piece  of  good  luck  to  have  so  rare  an 
opportunity  of  distinguishing  yourself.  You  must  know,  my 
good  Perseus,  I  think  of  getting  married  to  the  beautiful  Prin- 
cess Hippodamia,  and  it  is  customary  on  these  occasions  to 
make  the  bride  a  present  of  some  far-fetched  and  elegant  curi-^ 
osity.  I  have  been  a  little  perplexed,  I  must  honestly  confess^ 
where  to  obtain  anything  likely  to  please  a  princess  of  her 
exquisite  taste.  But  this  morning,  I  flatter  myself,  I  have 
thought  of  precisely  the  article." 

"And  can  I  assist  your  majesty  in  obtaining  it?"  cried 
Perseus,  eagerly. 

"  You  can,  if  you  are  as  brave  a  youth  as  I  believe  you  to 
be,"  replied  King  Polydectes,  with  the  utmost  graciousness  of 
manner.  "  The  bridal  gift  which  I  have  set  my  heart  on  pre- 
senting to  the  beautiful  Hippodamia  is  the  head  of  the  Gorgon 
Medusa  with  the  snaky  locks,  and  I  depend  on  you,  my  dear 
Perseus,  to  bring  it  to  me.  So,  as  I  am  anxious  to  settle  affairs 
with  the  princess,  the  sooner  you  go  in  quest  of  the  Gorgon 
the  better  I  shall  be  pleased." 

" I  will  set  out  to-morrow  morning,"  answered  Perseus. 


THE  GORGON'S  HEAD.  483 

"  Pray  do  so,  my  gallant  youth,"  rejoined  the  king.  "  And, 
Perseus,  in  cutting  olf  the  Gorgon's  head  be  careful  to  make  a 
clean  stroke,  so  as  not  to  injure  its  appearance.  You  must  bring 
it  home  in  the  very  best  condition  in  order  to  suit  the  exquisite 
taste  of  the  beautiful  Princess  Hippodamia." 

Perseus  left  the  palace,  but  was  scarcely  out  of  hearing 
before  Polydectes  burst  into  a  laugh,  being  greatly  amused, 
wicked  king  that  he  was,  to  find  how  readily  the  young  man 
fell  into  the  snare.  The  news  quickly  spread  abroad  that  Per- 
seus had  undertaken  to  cut  off  the  head  of  Medusa  with  the 
snaky  locks.  Everybody  was  rejoiced,  for  most  of  the  inliabit- 
ants  of  the  island  were  as  wicked  as  the  king  himself,  and 
would  have  liked  nothing  better  than  to  see  some  enormous 
mischief  happen  to  Danae  and  her  son.  The  only  good  man  in 
this  unfortunate  island  of  Seriphus  appears  to  have  been  the 
fisherman.  As  Perseus  walked  along,  therefore,  the  people 
pointed  after  him,  and  made  mouths,  and  winked  to  one 
another,  and  ridiculed  him  as  loudly  as  they  dared. 

"  Ho,  ho !  "  cried  they ;  "  Medusa's  snakes  will  sting  him 
soundly !  " 

Now,  there  were  three  Gorgons  alive  at  that  period,  and 
they  were  the  most  strange  and  terrible  monsters  that  had  ever 
been  seen  since  the  world  was  made,  or  that  have  been  seen  in 
after  days,  or  that  are  likely  to  be  seen  in  all  time  to  come.  I 
hardly  know  what  sort  of  creature  or  hobgoblin  to  call  them. 
They  were  three  sisters,  and  seem  to  have  borne  some  distant 
resemblance  to  woman,  but  were  really  a  very  frightful  and 
mischievous  species  of  dragon.  It  is  indeed  dijEficult  to  imagine 
what  hideous  beings  these  three  sisters  were.  Why,  instead  of 
locks  of  hair,  if  you  can  believe  me,  they  had  each  of  them  a 
hundred  enormous  snakes  growing  on  their  heads,  all  alive, 
twisting,  wriggling,  curling,  and  thrusting  out  their  venomous 
tongues  with  forked  stings  at  the  end.  The  teeth  of  the  Gor- 
gons were  terribly  long  tusks  ;  their  hands  were  made  of  brass  ; 
and  their  bodies  were  all  over  scales,  which,  if  not  iron,  were 
something  as  hard  and  impenetrable.  They  had  wings,  too, 
and  exceedingly  splendid  ones,  I  can  assure  you,  for  every 
feather  in  them  was  pure,  bright,  glittering,  burnished  gold, 
and  they  looked  very  dazzling,  no  doubt,  when  the  Gorgons 
were  flying  about  in  the  sunshine. 

But  when  people  happened  to  catch  a  glimpse  of  their  glit- 
tering brightness  aloft  in  the  air,  they  seldom  stopped  to  gaze, 


484  THE  GORGON'S  HEAD. 

but  ran  and  hid  themselves  as  speedily  as  they  could.  You 
Mali  think,  perhaps,  that  they  were  afraid  of  being  stung  by 
the  serpents  that  served  the  Gorgons  instead  of  hair,  or  of  hav- 
ing their  heads  bitten  off  by  their  ugly  tusks,  or  of  being  torn 
all  to  pieces  by  their  brazen  claws.  Well,  to  be  sure,  these 
were  some  of  the  dangers,  but  by  no  means  the  greatest  nor 
the  most  difficult  to  avoid.  For  the  worst  thing  about  these 
abominable  Gorgons  was  that  if  once  a  poor  mortal  fixed  his 
eyes  full  upon  one  of  their  faces,  he  was  certain  that  very 
instant  to  be  changed  from  warm  flesh  and  blood  into  cold 
and  lifeless  stone. 

Thus,  as  you  Avill  easily  perceive,  it  was  a  very  dangerous 

adventure  that  the  wicked  King  Polydectes  had  contrived  for 

•Vais   innocent   young   man.      Perseus   himself,  when  he  had 

Wiought  over  the  matter,  could  not  help  seeing  that  he  had 

very  little  chance  of  coming  safely  through  it,  and  that  he  was 

far  more  likely  to  become  a  stone  image  than  to  bring  back  the 

iiead  of  Medusa  with  the  snaky  locks.     For,  not  to  sjDeak  of 

mother  difficulties,  there  Avas  one  which  it  would  have  puzzled 

.an  older  man  than  Perseus  to  get  over.     Not   only  must  he 

;£ght  with  and  slay  this  golden-winged,  iron-scaled,  long-tusked, 

"brazen-clawed,  snaky-haired  monster,  but  he  must  do  it  with 

his  eyes  shut,  or  at  least  without  so  much  as  a  glance  at  the 

enemy  with  whom  he  was  contending.      Else,  while  his  arm 

was  lifted  to  strike,  he  would  stiffen  into  stone,  and  stand  with 

that  uplifted  arm  for  centuries,  until  time  and  the  wiad  and 

weather  should  crumble  him  quite  away.    This  would  be  a  very 

sad  thing  to  befall  a  young  man  who  wanted  to  perform  a  great 

many  brave  deeds  and  to  enjoy  a  great  deal  of  happiness  in 

this  bright  and  beautiful  world. 

So  disconsolate  did  these  thoughts  make  him  that  Perseus 
could  not  bear  to  tell  his  mother  what  he  had  undertaken  to  do. 
He  therefore  took  his  shield,  girded  on  his  svv^ord,  and  crossed 
over  from  the  island  to  the  mainland,  where  he  sat  down  in  a 
solitary  place  and  hardly  refrained  from  shedding  tears. 

But  while  he  was  in  this  sorrowful  mood  he  heard  a  voice 
close  beside  him. 

"Perseus,"  said  the  voice,  "why  are  you  sad?  " 

He  lifted  his  head  from  his  hands,  in  which  he  had  hidden 

it,  and,  behold !  all  alone  as  Perseus  had  supposed  himself  to 

be,  there  was  a  stranger  in  the  solitary  place.     It  was  a  brisk, 

intelligent,  and  remarkably  shrewd-looking  young  man,  with 


THE  GORGON'S  HEAD.  485 

a  cloak  over  his  shoulders,  an  odd  sort  of  cap  on  his  head,  a 
strangely  twisted  staff  in  his  hand,  and  a  short  and  very 
crooked  sword  hanging  by  his  side.  He  was  exceeding  light 
and  active  in  his  figure,  like  a  person  much  accustomed  to  gym- 
nastic exercises  and  well  able  to  leap  or  run.  Above  all,  the 
stranger  had  such  a  clieerful,  knowing,  and  helpful  aspect 
(though  it  was  certainly  a  little  mischievous  into  the  bargain) 
that  Perseus  could  not  help  feeling  his  spirits  grow  livelier  as 
he  gazed  at  him.  Besides,  being  really  a  courageous  youth,  he 
felt  greatly  ashamed  that  anybody  should  have  found  him  wdth 
tears  in  his  eyes,  like  a  timid  little  schoolboy,  when,  after  all, 
there  might  be  no  occasion  for  despair.  So  Perseus  wiped  his 
eyes  and  answered  the  stranger  pretty  briskly,  putting  on  as 
brave  a  look  as  he  could. 

"  I  am  not  so  very  sad,"  said  he  ;  "  only  thoughtful  about 
an  adventure  that  I  have  undertaken." 

"  Oho  !  "  answered  the  stranger.  "  "Well,  tell  me  all  about 
it,  and  possibly  I  may  be  of  service  to  you.  I  have  helped  a 
good  many  young  men  through  adventures  that  looked  difficult 
enough  beforehand.  Perhaps  you  may  have  heard  of  me.  I 
have  more  names  than  one,  but  the  name  of  Quicksilver  suits 
me  as  well  as  any  other.  Tell  me  wdiat  your  trouble  is,  and 
we  will  talk  the  matter  over  and  see  v/hat  can  be  done." 

The  stranger's  words  and  manner  put  Perseus  into  quite  a 
different  mood  from  his  former  one.  He  resolved  to  tell  Quick- 
silver all  his  difficulties,  since  he  could  not  easily  be  worse  off 
than  he  already  was,  and  very  possibly  his  new  friend  might 
give  him  some  advice  that  would  turn  out  w^ell  in  the  end.  So 
he  let  the  stranger  know,  in  few  w^ords,  precisely  what  the  case 
■^as  —  how  that  King  Polydectes  wanted  the  head  of  Medusa 
Avitli  the  snaky  locks  as  a  bridal  gift  for  the  beautiful  Princess 
Hippodamia,  and  how  that  he  had  undertaken  to  get  it  for  him, 
but  was  afraid  of  being  turned  into  stone. 

"  And  that  would  be  a  great  pity,"  said  Quicksilver,  with 
his  mischievous  smile.  "You  would  make  a  very  handsome 
marble  statue,  it  is  true,  and  it  would  be  a  considerable  number 
of  centuries  before  you  crumbled  away,  but,  on  the  whole,  one 
would  rather  be  a  young  man  for  a  few  years  than  a  stone 
image  for  a  great  many." 

"  Oh,  far  rather  !  "  exclaimed  Perseus,  with  the  tears  again 
standing  in  his  eyes.  "And,  besides,  v/hat  would  my  dear 
mother  do  if  her  beloved  son  were  turned  into  a  stone  ?  " 


486  THE  GORGON'S  HEAD. 

"  Well,  well !  let  us  hope  that  the  affair  will  not  turn  out 
so  very  badly,"  replied  Quicksilver  in  an  encouraging  tone. 
"  I  am  the  very  person  to  help  you,  if  anybody  can.  My  sister 
and  myself  will  do  our  utmost  to  bring  you  safe  through  the 
adventure,  ugly  as  it  now  looks." 

"Your  sister?"  repeated  Perseus. 

"  Yes,  my  sister,"  said  the  stranger.  "  She  is  very  wise,  I 
promise  you  ;  and  as  for  myself,  I  generally  have  all  my  wits 
about  me,  such  as  they  are.  If  you  show  yourself  bold  and 
cautious  and  follow  our  advice,  you  need  not  fear  being  a  stone 
image  yet  a  while.  But,  first  of  all,  you  must  polish  your 
shield  till  you  can  see  your  face  in  it  as  distinctly  as  in  a 
mirror." 

This  seemed  to  Perseus  rather  an  odd  beginning  of  the 
adventure,  for  he  thought  it  of  far  more  consequence  that  the 
shield  should  be  strong  enough  to  defend  him  from  the  Gorgons' 
brazen  claws  than  that  it  should  be  bright  enough  to  show  him 
the  reflection  of  his  face.  However,  concluding  that  Quick- 
silver knew  better  than  himself,  he  immediately  set  to  work 
and  scrubbed  the  shield  with  so  much  diligence  and  good  will 
that  it  very  quickly  shone  like  the  moon  at  harvest  time. 
Quicksilver  looked  at  it  with  a  smile  and  nodded  his  approba- 
tion. Then,  taking  off  his  own  short  and  crooked  sword,  he 
girded  it  about  Perseus,  instead  of  the  one  which  he  had  before 
worn. 

"  No  sword  but  mine  will  answer  your  purpose,"  observed 
he  ;  "  the  blade  has  a  most  excellent  temper,  and  will  cut 
through  iron  and  brass  as  easily  as  through  the  slenderest  twig. 
And  now  we  will  set  out.  The  next  thing  is  to  find  the  Three 
Gray  Women,  who  will  tell  us  where  to  find  the  Nymphs." 

"  The  Three  Gray  Women  !  "  cried  Perseus,  to  whom  this 
seemed  only  a  new  difficulty  in  the  path  of  his  adventure  ; 
"  pray,  who  may  the  Three  Gray  Women  be  ?  I  never  heard 
of  them  before." 

"  They  are  three  very  strange  old  ladies,"  said  Quicksilver, 
laughing.  "  They  have  but  one  eye  among  them,  and  only  one 
tooth.  Moreover,  you  must  find  them  out  by  starlight  or  in 
the  dusk  of  the  evening,  for  they  never  show  themselves  by  the 
light  either  of  the  sun  or  moon." 

"  But,"  said  Perseus,  "  why  should  I  waste  my  time  with 
these  Three  Gray  Women  ?  Would  it  not  be  better  to  set  out 
at  once  in  search  of  the  terrible  Gorgor.s  ?  " 


THE  GORGON'S  HEAD.  487 

"No,  no,"  answered  his  friend.  "  There  are  other  things  to 
be  done  before  you  can  find  your  way  to  the  Gorgons.  There 
is  nothing  for  it  but  to  hunt  up  these  old  ladies,  and  when 
we  meet  with  them  you  may  be  sure  that  the  Gorgons  are 
not  a  great  way  off.     Come,  let  us  be  stirring." 

Perseus  by  this  time  felt  so  much  confidence  in  his  com- 
panion's sagacity  that  he  made  no  more  objections,  and  pro- 
fessed himself  ready  to  begin  the  adventure  immediately. 
They  accordingly  set  out  and  walked  at  a  pretty  brisk  pace  — • 
so  brisk,  indeed,  that  Perseus  found  it  rather  difficult  to  keep 
up  with  his  nimble  friend  Quicksilver.  To  say  the  truth,  he 
}iad  a  singular  idea  that  Quicksilver  was  furnished  with  a  pair 
of  winged  shoes,  which  of  course  helped  him  along  marvelously. 
And  then,  too,  when  Perseus  looked  sideways  at  him  out  of  the 
corner  of  his  eye,  he  seemed  to  see  wings  on  the  side  of  his 
head,  although,  if  he  turned  a  full  gaze,  there  were  no  such 
things  to  be  perceived,  but  only  an  odd  kind  of  cap.  But,  at 
all  events,  the  twisted  staff  was  evidently  a  great  convenience 
to  Quicksilver,  and  enabled  him  to  proceed  so  fast  that  Perseus, 
though  a  remarkably  active  young  man,  began  to  be  out  of 
breath. 

"Here!"  cried  Quicksilver  at  last  —  for  he  knew  well 
enough,  rogue  that  he  was,  how  hard  Perseus  found  it  to  keep 
pace  with  him  —  "take  you  the  staff,  for  you  need  it  a  great 
deal  more  than  I.  Are  there  no  better  walkers  than  yourself 
in  the  island  of  Seriphus?  " 

"  I  could  walk  pretty  well,"  said  Perseus,  glancing  slyly  at 
his  companion's  feet,  "if  I  had  only  a  pair  of  winged  shoes." 

"  We  must  see  about  getting  you  a  pair,"  answered  Quick- 
silver. 

But  the  staff  helped  Perseus  along  so  bravely  that  he  no 
longer  felt  the  slightest  weariness.  In  fact,  the  stick  seemed 
to  be  alive  in  his  hand,  and  to  lend  some  of  its  life  to  Perseus. 
He  and  Quicksilver  now  walked  onward  at  their  ease,  talking 
very  sociably  together,  and  Quicksilver  told  so  many  pleasant 
stories  about  his  former  adventures,  and  how  well  his  wits  had 
served  him  on  various  occasions,  that  Perseus  began  to  think 
him  a  very  wonderful  person.  He  evidently  knew  the  world, 
and  nobody  is  so  charming  to  a  young  man  as  a  friend  who  has 
that  kind  of  knowledge.  Perseus  listened  the  more  eagerly  in 
the  hope  of  brightening  his  own  wits  by  what  he  heard. 

At  last  he  happened  to  recollect  that  Quicksilver  had  spoken 


488  THE  GORGON'S  HEAD. 

of  a  sister  who  was  to  lend  her  assistance  in  the  adventure  which 
they  were  now  bound  upon. 

"Where  is  she?"  he  inquired.  "Shall  we  not  meet  her 
soon?" 

"  All  at  the  proper  time,"  said  his  companion.  "  But  this 
sister  of  mine,  you  must  understand,  is  quite  a  different  sort  of 
character  from  myself.  She  is  very  grave  and  prudent,  seldom 
smiles,  never  laughs,  and  makes  it  a  rule  not  to  utter  a  word 
unless  she  has  something  particularly  profound  to  say.  Neither 
will  she  listen  to  any  but  the  v/isest  conversation." 

"  Dear  me  !  "  ejaculated  Perseus  ;  "  I  shall  be  afraid  to  say 
a  syllable." 

"  She  is  a  very  accomplished  person,  I  assure  you,"  con- 
tinued Quicksilver,  "and  has  all  the  arts  and  sciences  at  her 
fingers'  ends.  In  short,  she  is  so  immoderately  wise  that  many 
people  call  her  wisdom  personified.  But,  to  tell  you  the  truth, 
she  has  hardly  vivacity  enough  for  my  taste,  and  I  think  you 
would  scarcely  find  her  so  pleasant  a  traveling  companion  as 
myself.  She  has  her  good  points,  nevertheless,  and  you  will 
find  the  benefit  of  them  in  your  encounter  with  the  Gor- 
gons." 

By  this  time  it  had  grown  quite  dusk.  They  were  nov/ 
come  to  a  very  v/ild  and  desert  place,  overgrown  w^ith  shaggy 
bushes,  and  so  silent  and  solitary  that  nobody  seemed  ever  to 
have  dwelt  or  journeyed  there.  All  was  waste  and  desolate 
in  the  gray  twilight,  which  grew  every  moment  more  obscure. 
Perseus  looked  about  him  rather  disconsolately,  and  awked 
Quicksilver  whether  they  had  a  great  deal  farther  to  go. 

"Hist!  hist!"  whispered  his  companion.  "Make  no 
noise.  This  is  just  the  time  and  place  to  meet  the  Three  Gray 
Women.  Be  careful  that  they  do  not  see  you  before  you  see 
them,  for,  though  they  have  but  a  single  eye  among  the  three, 
it  is  as  sharp-sighted  as  half  a  dozen  common  eyes." 

"  But  what  must  I  do,"  asked  Perseus,  "  when  we  meet 
them  ?  " 

Quicksilver  explained  to  Perseus  how  the  Three  Gray 
Women  managed  with  their  one  eye.  They  were  in  the  habit, 
it  seems,  of  changing  it  from  one  to  another,  as  if  it  had  been 
a  pair  of  spectacles  or  —  which  would  have  suited  them  better 
—  a  quizzing  glass.  When  one  of  the  three  had  kept  the  eye 
a  certain  time,  she  took  it  out  of  the  socket  and  passed  it  to  one 
of  her  sisters  whose  turn  it  might  happen  to  be,  and  who  im- 


THE  GORGON'S  HEAD.  489 

mediately  clapped  it  into  Iier  own  head  and  enjoyed  a  peep  at 
the  visible  world.  Thus  it  will  easily  be  understood  that  only 
one  of  the  Three  Gray  Women  could  see,  while  the  other  two 
Avere  in  utter  darkness  ;  and,  moreover,  at  the  instant  when  the 
eye  was  passing  from  hand  to  hand  neither  of  the  poor  old 
ladies  was  able  to  see  a  wink.  I  have  heard  of  a  great  many 
strange  things  in  my  day,  and  have  witnessed  not  a  few,  but 
none,  it  seems  to  me,  that  can  compare  with,  the  oddity  of  these 
1'hree  Gray  Women  all  peeping  through  a  single  eye. 

So  thought  Perseus  likewise,  and  was  so  astonished  that  he 
almost  fancied  his  companion  was  joking  with  him,  and  that 
there  were  no  such  old  women  in  the  world. 

"  You  will  soon  find  whether  I  tell  the  truth  or  no,"  observed 
Quicksilver.  "  Hark  !  hush  !  hist !  hist !  There  they  come, 
now ! " 

Perseus  looked  earnestly  through  the  dusk  of  the  evening, 
and  there,  sure  enough,  at  no  great  distance  off,  he  descried 
the  Thi-ee  Gray  Women.  The  light  being  so  faint,  he  could 
not  well  make  out  what  sort  of  figures  they  were,  only  he  dis- 
covered that  they  had  long  gray  hair,  and  as  they  came  nearer 
he  saw  that  two  of  them  had  but  the  empty  socket  of  an  eye  in 
the  middle  of  their  foreheads.  But  in  the  middle  of  the  third 
sister's  forehead  there  was  a  very  large,  bright,  and  piercing 
eye,  which  sparkled  like  a  great  diamond  in  a  ring;  and  so 
penetrating  did  it  seem  to  be  that  Perseus  could  not  help 
thinking  it  must  possess  the  gift  of  seeing  in  the  darkest 
midnight  just  as  perfectly  as  at  noonday.  The  sight  of 
three  persons'  eyes  was  melted  and  collected  into  that  single 
one. 

Thus  the  three  old  dames  got  along  about  as  comfortably^ 
upon  the  whole,  as  if  they  could  all  see  at  once.  She  who 
chanced  to  have  the  eye  in  her  forehead  led  the  other  two 
by  the  hands,  peeping  sharply  about  her  all  the  while,  inso- 
much that  Perseus  dreaded  lest  she  should  see  right  through 
the  thick  clump  of  bushes  behind  which  he  and  Quicksilver  had 
hidden  themselves.  jMy  stars  !  it  was  positively  terrible  to  be 
within  reach  of  so  very  sharp  an  eye. 

But  before  they  reached  the  clump  of  bushes  one  of  the 
Three  Gray  Women  spoke. 

"  Sister  I  Sister  Scarecrow  !  "  cried  she,  "you  have  had  the 
eye  long  enough.     It  is  my  turn  now  I  " 

"  Ivet  me  keep  it  a  moment  longer,  Sister  Nightmare,"  an- 


490  THE  GORGON'S  HEAD. 

swered  Scarecrow.    "  I  thought  I  had  a  glimpse  of  something 
behind  that  thick  bush." 

"  Well,  and  what  of  that  ?  "  retorted  Nightmare,  peevishly. 
"  Can't  I  see  into  a  thick  bush  as  easily  as  yourself  ?  The  eye 
is  mine  as  well  as  yours,  and  I  know  the  use  of  it  as  well  as 
you,  or  maybe  a  little  better.  I  insist  upon  taking  a  peep 
immediately." 

But  here  the  third  sister,  whose  name  was  Shakejoint,  began 
to  complain,  and  said  that  it  was  her  tui*n  to  have  the  eye,  and 
that  Scarecrow  and  Nightmare  wanted  to  keep  it  all  to  them- 
selves. To  end  the  dispute,  old  Dame  Scarecrow  took  the  eye 
out  of  her  forehead  and  held  it  forth  in  her  hand. 

"  Take  it,  one  of  you,"  cried  she,  "  and  quit  this  foolish 
quarreling.  For  my  part,  I  shall  be  glad  of  a  little  thick  dark- 
ness. Take  it  quickly,  however,  or  I  must  clap  it  into  my  own 
head  again." 

Accordingly,  both  Nightmare  and  Shakejoint  stretched  out 
their  hands,  groping  eagerly  to  snatch  the  eye  out  of  the  hand 
of  Scarecrow.  But,  being  both  alike  blind,  they  could  not  easily 
find  where  Scarecrow's  hand  was ;  and  Scarecrow,  being  now 
just  as  much  in  the  dark  as  Shakejoint  and  Nightmare,  could 
not  at  once  meet  either  of  their  hands  in  order  to  put  the  eye 
into  it.  Thus  (as  you  will  see  with  half  an  eye,  my  wise  little 
auditors)  these  good  old  dames  had  fallen  into  a  strange  per- 
plexity. For,  though  the  eye  shone  and  glistened  like  a  star 
as  Scarecrow  held  it  out,  yet  the  Gray  Women  caught  not  the 
least  glimpse  of  its  light,  and  were,  all  three,  in  utter  darkness 
from  too  impatient  a  desire  to  see. 

Quicksilver  v/as  so  much  tickled  at  beholding  Shakejoint 
and  Nightmare  both  groping  for  the  eye,  and  each  finding  fault 
with  Scarecrow  and  with  one  another,  that  he  could  scarcely 
help  laughing  aloud. 

"  Now  is  your  time  !  "  he  whispered  to  Perseus.  "  Quick, 
quick !  before  they  can  clap  the  eye  into  either  of  their  heads. 
Rush  out  upon  the  old  ladies  and  snatch  it  from  Scarecrow's 
hand." 

In  an  instant,  while  the  Three  Gray  Women  were  still 
scolding  each  other,  Perseus  leaped  from  behind  the  clump  of 
bushes  and  made  himself  master  of  the  prize.  The  marvelous 
eye,  as  he  held  it  in  his  hand,  shone  very  brightly,  and  seemed 
to  look  up  into  his  face  with  a  knowing  air,  and  an  expression 
as  if  it  would  have  winked  had  it  been  provided  with  a  pair  of 


THE  GORGON'S  HEAD.  491 

eyelids  for  that  purpose.  But  the  Gray  Women  knew  nothing 
of  what  had  happened,  and,  each  supposing  that  one  of  her 
sisters  was  in  possession  of  the  eye,  they  began  their  quarrel 
anew.  At  last,  as  Perseus  did  not  wish  to  put  these  respecta- 
ble dames  to  greater  inconvenience  than  was  really  necessary, 
he  thought  it  right  to  explain  the  matter. 

"  My  good  ladies,"  said  he,  "  pray  do  not  be  angry  with  one 
another.  If  anybody  is  in  fault,  it  is  myself,  for  I  have  the 
honor  to  hold  your  very  brilliant  and  excellent  eye  in  my  own 
hand." 

"You!  you  have  our  eye?  And  who  are  you?"  screamed 
the  Three  Gray  Women  all  in  a  breath,  for  they  were  terribly 
frightened,  of  course,  at  hearing  a  strange  voice  and  discover- 
ing that  their  eyesight  had  got  into  the  hands  of  they  could 
not  guess  whom.  "  Oh,  what  shall  we  do,  sisters  ?  what  shall 
we  do  ?  We  are  all  in  the  dark  !  Give  us  our  eye  !  Give  us 
our  one  precious,  solitary  eye  !  You  have  two  of  your  own  ! 
Give  us  our  eye  !  " 

"  Tell  them,"  whispered  Quicksilver  to  Perseus,  "  that  they 
shall  have  back  the  eye  as  soon  as  they  direct  you  where  to  find 
the  Nymphs  who  have  the  flying  slippers,  the  magic  wallet,  and 
the  helmet  of  darkness." 

"  My  dear,  good,  admirable  old  ladies,"  said  Perseus,  address- 
ing the  Gray  Women,  "  there  is  no  occasion  for  pvitting  your- 
selves into  such  a  fright.  I  am  by  no  means  a  bad  young  man. 
You  shall  have  back  your  eye,  safe  and  sound  and  as  briglit  as 
ever,  the  moment  you  tell  me  where  to  find  the  Nymphs." 

"  The  Nymphs  !  Goodness  me  !  sisters,  what  Nymphs  does 
he  mean  ? "  screamed  Scarecrow.  "  There  are  a  great  many 
Nymphs,  people  say  —  some  that  go  a  hunting  in  the  woods,  and 
some  that  live  inside  of  trees,  and  some  that  have  a  comfortable 
home  in  fountains  of  water.  We  know  nothing  at  all  about 
them.  We  are  three  unfortunate  old  souls  that  go  wandering 
about  in  the  dusk,  and  never  had  but  one  eye  among  us,  and 
that  one  you  have  stolen  away.  Oh,  give  it  back,  good  stranger  ! 
whoever  you  are,  give  it  back  !  " 

All  this  while  the  Three  Gray  Women  were  groping  with 
their  outstretched  hands  and  trying  their  utmost  to  get  hold  of 
Perseus,  but  he  took  good  care  to  keep  out  of  their  reach. 

"My  respectable  dames,"  said  he — for  his  mother  had  taught 
him  always  to  use  the  greatest  civility  —  "I  hold  your  eye  fast 
in  my  hand,  and  shall  keep  it  safely  for  you  until  you  please  to 


492  THE   GORGON'S  HEAD. 

tell  me  where  to  find  these  Nymphs  —  the  Nymphs,  I  mean, 
v;ho  keep  the  enchanted  wallet,  the  flying  slippers,  and  the  — 
Y/hat  is  it  ?  —  the  lielmet  of  invisibility." 

"Mercy  on  ns,  sisters  !  what  is  the  young  man  talking  about?  " 
exclaimed  Scarecrow,  Nightmare,  and  Shakejoint  one  to  another, 
with  great  appearance  of  astonishment.  "A  pair  of  flying  slip- 
pers, quoth  he !  His  heels  would  quickly  fly  higher  than  his 
head  if  he  were  silly  enough  to  put  them  on.  And  a  helmet  of 
invisibility  !  How  could  a  helmet  make  him  invisible  unless  it 
were  big  enough  for  him  to  hide  under  it  ?  And  the  enchanted 
wallet !  What  sort  of  a  contrivance  may  that  be,  I  wonder? 
No,  no,  good  stranger !  we  can  tell  you  nothing  of  these  mar- 
velous things.  You  have  two  eyes  of  your  own,  and  we  but  a 
single  one  among  us  three.  You  can  find  out  such  wonders 
better  than  three  blind  old  creatures  like  us." 

Perseus,  hearing  them  talk  in  this  way,  began  really  to  think 
that  the  Gray  Women  knew  nothing  of  the  matter,  and,  as  it 
grieved  him  to  have  put  them  to  so  much  trouble,  he  was  just 
on  the  point  of  restoring  their  eye  and  asking  pardon  for  his 
rudeness  in  snatching  it  away.  But  Quicksilver  caught  his 
hand. 

"Don't  let  them  make  a  fool  of  you,"  said  he.  "These 
Three  Gray  Women  are  the  only  persons  in  the  world  that  can 
tell  you  where  to  find  the  Nymphs,  and  unless  you  get  that 
information  you  will  never  succeed  in  cutting  off  the  liead  of 
Medusa  with  the  snaky  locks.  Keep  fa,st  hold  of  the  eye  and 
all  will  go  well." 

As  it  turned  out.  Quicksilver  was  in  the  right.  There  are 
but  few  things  that  people  prize  so  much  as  they  do  their  eye- 
sight, and  the  Gray  Women  valued  their  single  eye  as  highly 
as  if  it  had  been  half  a  dozen,  which  was  the  number  they  ought 
to  have  had.  Finding  that  there  was  no  other  way  of  recover- 
ing it,  they  at  last  told  Perseus  what  he  wanted  to  know.  No 
sooner  had  they  done  so  than  he  immediately  and  with  the 
utmost  respect  clapped  the  eye  into  the  vacant  socket  in  one  of 
their  foreheads,  thanked  them  for  their  kindness,  and  bade 
them  farewell.  Before  the  young  m.an  was  out  of  hearing, 
however,  they  had  got  into  a  new  disijute  because  he  happened 
to  have  given  the  eye  to  Scarecrow,  who  had  already  taken  her 
turn  of  it  when  their  trouble  with  Perseus  commenced. 

It  is  greatly  to  be  feared  that  the  Three  Gray  Women  were 
very  much  in  the  habit  of  disturbing  their  mutual  harmony  by 


THE  GORGON'S  HEAD.  493 

bickerings  of  this  sort,  v/hicli  was  the  more  pity  as  they  could 
not  conveniently  do  without  one  another,  and  were  evidently 
intended  to  be  inseparable  companions.  As  a  general  rule,  I 
would  advise  all  people,  whether  sisters  or  brothers,  old  or 
young,  who  chance  to  have  but  one  eye  among  them,  to  culti- 
vate forbearance,  and  not  all  insist  upon  peeping  through  it  at 
once. 

Quicksilver  and  Perseus  in  the  mean  time  were  making  the 
best  of  their  way  in  quest  of  the  Nymphs.  The  old  dames  had 
given  them  such  particular  directions  that  they  were  not  long 
in  finding  them  out.  They  proved  to  be  very  different  persons 
from  Nightmare,  Shakejoint,  and  Scarecrow,  for  instead  of  being 
old  they  were  young  and  beautiful,  and  instead  of  one  eye  among 
the  sisterhood  each  Nymph  had  two  exceedingly  bright  eyes  of 
her  own,  with  vyliich  she  looked  very  kindly  at  Perseus.  They 
seemed  to  be  acquainted  with  Quicksilver,  and  when  he  told 
them  the  adventure  which  Perseus  had  undertaken  they  made 
no  difficulty  about  giving  him  the  valuable  articles  that  were 
in  their  custody.  In  the  first  place,  they  brought  out  what 
appeared  to  be  a  small  purse,  made  of  deerskin  and  curiously 
embroidered,  and  bade  him  be  sure  and  keep  it  safe.  This  was 
the  magic  vv^allet.  The  Nymphs  next  produced  a  pair  of  shoes 
or  slippers  or  sandals  with  a  nice  little  pair  of  wings  at  the  heel 
of  each. 

"  Put  them  on,  Perseus,"  said  Quicksilver.  "  You  will  find 
yourself  as  light-heeled  as  you  can  desire  for  the  remainder  of 
our  journey." 

So  Perseus  proceeded  to  put  one  of  the  slippers  on,  while 
he  laid  the  other  on  the  ground  by  his  side.  Unexpectedly, 
however,  this  other  slipper  spread  its  wings,  fluttered  up  off 
the  ground,  and  would  probably  have  flown  away  if  Quicksilver 
had  not  made  a  leap  and  luckily  caught  it  in  the  air. 

"Be  more  careful,"  said  he  as  he  gave  it  back  to  Perseus. 
*■'  It  would  frighten  the  birds  up  aloft  if  they  should  see  a  flying 
slipper  amongst  them." 

When  Perseus  had  got  on  both  of  these  wonderful  slippers 
lie  was  altogether  too  buoyant  to  tread  on  earth.  Making  a 
step  or  two,  lo  and  behold  !  upward  he  popped  into  the  air,  high 
above  the  heads  of  Quicksilver  and  the  Nymphs,  and  found  it 
very  difficult  to  clamber  down  again.  Winged  slippers  and  all 
such  high-flying  contrivances  are  seldom  quite  easy  to  manage 
until   one   grows   a  little   accustomed  to   them.     Quicksilver 


494  THE   GORGON'S  HEAD. 

lauglied  at  bis  companion's  involuntary  activity,  and  told  him 
that  he  must  not  be  in  so  desperate  a  hurry,  but  must  wait  for 
the  invisible  helmet. 

The  good-natured  Nymphs  had  the  helmet  with  its  dark 
tuft  of  waving  plumes  all  in  readiness  to  put  upon  his  head. 
And  now  there  happened  about  as  wonderful  an  incident  as 
anything  that  I  have  yet  told  you.  The  instant  before  the 
helmet  was  put  on,  there  stood  Perseus,  a  beautiful  young  man 
with  golden  ringlets  and  rosy  cheeks,  the  crooked  sword  by  his 
side,  and  the  brightly  polished  shield  upon  his  arm  —  a  figure 
that  seemed  all  made  up  of  courage,  sprightliness,  and  glorious 
light.  But  when  the  helmet  had  descended  over  his  white  brow 
there  was  no  longer  any  Perseus  to  be  seen  !  Nothing  but 
empty  air  !  Even  the  helmet  that  covered  him  with  its  invisi- 
bility had  vanished ! 

"  Where  are  you,  Perseus  ?  "  asked  Quicksilver. 

"  Why,  here,  to  be  sure  !  "  answered  Perseus,  very  quietly, 
although  his  voice  seemed  to  come  out  of  the  transparent 
atmosphere.  "Just  where  I  was  a  moment  ago.  Don't  you 
see  me  ?  " 

"  No,  indeed  !  "  answered  his  friend.  "  You  are  hidden 
under  the  helmet.  But  if  I  cannot  see  you,  neither  can  the 
Gorgons.  Follow  me,  therefore,  and  we  will  try  your  dexterity 
in  using  the  winged  slippers." 

With  these  words  Quicksilver's  cap  spread  its  wings,  as  if 
his  head  were  about  to  fly  away  from  his  shoulders ;  but  his 
whole  figure  rose  lightly  into  the  air,  and  Perseus  foUov/ed.  B;y 
the  time  they  had  ascended  a  few  hundred  feet  the  young  man 
began  to  feel  what  a  delightful  thing  it  was  to  leave  the  dull 
earth  so  far  beneath  him  and  to  be  able  to  flit  about  like  a  bird. 

It  was  now  deep  night.  Perseus  looked  upward  and  saw 
the  round,  bright,  silvery  moon,  and  thought  that  he  should 
desire  nothing  better  than  to  soar  up  thither  and  spend  his  life 
there.  Then  he  looked  downward  again  and  saw  the  earth, 
with  its  seas  and  lakes,  and  the  silver  courses  of  its  rivers,  and 
snowy  mountain  peaks,  and  the  breadth  of  its  fields,  and  the 
dark  cluster  of  its  woods,  and  its  cities  of  white  marble  ;  and, 
with  the  moonshine  sleeping  over  the  whole  scene,  it  was  as 
beautiful  as  the  moon  or  any  star  could  be.  And,  among  other 
objects,  he  saw  the  island  of  Seriphus,  where  his  dear  mother 
was.  Sometimes  he  and  Quicksilver  approached  a  cloud  that 
at  a  distance  looked  as  if  it  were  made  of  fleecy  silver,  although 


THE   GORGON'S  HEAD.  495 

\Aion  they  plunged  into  it  they  found  themselves  chilled  and 
moistened  with  gray  mist.  So  swift  was  their  flight,  however, 
that  in  an  instant  they  emerged  from  the  cloud  into  the  moon- 
light again.  Once  a  high-soaring  eagle  flew  right  against  the 
invisible  Perseus  The  bravest  sights  were  the  meteors  that 
gleamed  suddenl}'  out  as  if  a  bonfire  had  been  kindled  in  the 
sky,  and  made  the  sunshine  pale  for  as  much  as  a  hundred  miles 
around  them. 

As  the  two  companions  flew  onward  Perseus  fancied  that  he 
could  hear  the  rustle  of  a  garment  close  by  his  side;  and  it 
was  on  the  side  opposite  to  the  one  where  he  beheld  Quicksilver, 
yet  only  Quicksilver  was  visible. 

"Whose  garment  is  this,"  inquired  Perseus,  "that  keeps 
rustling  close  beside  me  in  the  breeze  ?  " 

"  Oh,  it  is  my  sister's  !  "  answered  Quicksilver.  "  She  is 
coming  along  with  us,  as  I  told  you  she  would.  We  could  do 
nothing  without  the  help  of  my  sister.  You  have  no  idea  how 
wise  she  is.  She  has  such  eyes,  too  !  Why,  she  can  see  you  at 
this  moment  just  as  distinctly  as  if  you  were  not  invisible,  and 
I'll  venture  to  say  she  will  be  the  first  to  discover  the  Gorgons." 

By  this  time,  in  their  swift  voyage  through  the  air,  they 
had  come  within  sight  of  the  great  ocean,  and  were  soon  flying 
over  it.  Far  beneath  them  the  waves  tossed  themselves  tumul- 
tuously  in  mid  sea,  or  rolled  a  white  surf  line  upon  the  long 
beaches,  or  foamed  against  the  rocky  cliffs  with  a  roar  that  was 
thunderous  in  the  lower  world,  although  it  became  a  gentle 
murmur,  like  the  voice  of  a  baby  half  asleep,  before  it  reached 
the  ears  of  Perseus.  Just  then  a  voice  spoke  in  the  air  close 
by  him.  It  seemed  to  be  a  woman's  voice,  and  was  melodious, 
though  not  exactly  what  might  be  called  sweet,  but  grave  and 
mild. 

"Perseus,"  said  the  voice,  "there  are  the  Gorgons." 

"  Where  ?  "  exclaimed  Perseus.     "  I  cannot  see  them." 

"On  the  shore  of  that  island  beneath  you,"  replied  the 
voice.  "A  pebble  dropped  from  your  hand  would  strike  in 
the  midst  of  them." 

"I  told  you  she  would  be  the  first  to  discover  them,"  said 
Quicksilver  to  Perseus.     "  And  there  they  are  !  " 

Straight  downward,  two  or  three  thousand  feet  below  him, 
Perseus  perceived  a  small  island  with  the  sea  breaking  into 
white  foam  all  around  its  rocky  shore  except  on  one  side,  where 
there  was  a  beach  of  snowy  sand.     He  descended  toward  it, 


496  THE   GORGON'S  HEAD. 

and,  looking  earnestly  at  a  cluster  or  heap  of  brightness  at  the 
foot  of  a  precipice  of  black  rocks,  behold,  there  v/ere  the  terrible 
Gorgons  !  They  lay  fast  asleep,  soothed  by  the  thunder  of  the 
sea,  for  it  required  a  tumult  that  would  have  deafened  every- 
body else  to  lull  such  fierce  creatures  into  slumber.  The 
moonlight  glistened  on  their  steely  scales  and  on  their  golden 
wings,  which  drooped  idly  over  the  sand.  Their  brazen  claws, 
horrible  to  look  at,  were  thrust  out  and  clutched  the  v/ave- 
beaten  fragments  of  rock,  while  the  sleeping  Gorgons  dreamed 
of  tearing  some  poor  mortal  all  to  pieces.  The  snakes  that 
served  them  instead  of  hair  seemed  likewise  to  be  asleep, 
although  now  and  then  one  would  writhe  and  lift  its  head  and 
thrust  out  its  forked  tongue,  emitting  a  drowsy  hiss,  and  then 
let  itself  subside  among  its  sister  snakes. 

The  Gorgons  were  more  like  an  av/ful  gigantic  kind  of  in- 
sect —  immense  golden-winged  beetles  or  dragon  flies  or  things 
of  that  sort,  at  once  ugly  and  beautiful — than  like  anything 
else,  only  that  they  were  a  thousand  and  a  million  times  as  big. 
And,  with  all  this,  there  was  something  partly  human  about 
them,  too.  Luckily  for  Perseus,  their  faces  were  completely 
hidden  from  him  by  the  posture  in  which  they  lay,  for  had  he 
but  looked  one  instant  at  them  he  would  have  fallen  heavily  out 
of  the  air,  an  image  of  senseless  stone. 

"  Now,"  whispered  Quicksilver,  as  he  hovered  by  the  side  of 
Perseus,  —  "  now  is  your  time  to  do  the  deed  !  Be  quick,  for  if 
one  of  the  Gorgons  should  awake,  you  are  too  late." 

"  Which  shall  I  strike  at  ? "  asked  Perseus,  drawing  his 
sword  and  descending  a  little  lower.  "  They  all  three  look 
alike.  All  three  have  snaky  locks.  Which  of  the  three  is 
Medusa  ?  " 

It  must  be  understood  that  Medusa  was  the  only  one  of  these 
dragon  monsters  whose  head  Perseus  could  possibly  cut  off.  As 
for  the  other  two,  let  him  have  the  sharpest  sword  that  ever  was 
forged,  and  he  might  have  hacked  away  by  the  hour  together 
without  doing  them  the  least  harm. 

"Be  cautious,"  said  the  calm  voice  which  had  before  spoken 
to  him.  "  One  of  the  Gorgons  is  stirring  in  her  sleep,  and  is 
just  about  to  turn  over.  That  is  Medusa.  Do  not  look  at  her. 
The  sight  would  turn  you  to  stone.  Look  at  the  reflection  of 
her  face  and  figure  in  the  bright  mirror  of  your  shield." 

Perseus  now  understood  Quicksilver's  motive  for  so  earnestly 
exhorting  him  to  polish  his  shield.     In  its  surface  he  could  safely 


THE  GORGOX'S  HEAD.  497 

look  at  the  reflection  of  the  Gorgon's  face.  And  there  it  was, 
that  terrible  countenance,  mirrored  in  the  brightness  of  the 
shield,  with  the  moonlight  falling  over  it  and  displaying  all  its 
horror.  The  snakes,  whose  venomous  natures  could  not  alto- 
gether sleep,  kept  twisting  themselves  over  the  forehead.  It 
was  the  fiercest  and  most  horrible  face  that  ever  was  seen  or  * 
imagined,  and  3^et  with  a  strange,  fearful,  and  savage  kind  of 
beauty  in  it.  The  eyes  Avere  closed  and  the  Gorgon  was  still  in 
a  deep  slumber,  but  there  was  an  unquiet  expression  disturbing 
her  features,  as  if  the  monster  was  troubled  with  an  ugly  dream. 
She  gnashed  her  white  tusks  and  dug  into  the  sand  v/ith  her 
brazen  claws. 

The  snakes,  too,  seemed  to  feel  Medusa's  dream  and  to  be 
made  more  restless  by  it.  They  twined  themselves  into  tumul- 
tuous knots,  vrrithed  fiercely,  and  uplifted  a  hundred  hissing 
heads  without  opening  their  eyes. 

"  Now,  now  !  "  whispered  Quicksilver,  who  was  growing  im- 
patient.    "  Make  a  dash  at  the  monster !  " 

"  But  be  calm,"  said  the  grave,  melodious  voice  at  the  young 
man's  side.  "  Look  in  your  shield  as  you  fly  downward,  and 
take  care  that  you  do  not  miss  your  first  stroke." 

Perseus  flew  cautiously  downvv^ard,  still  keeping  his  eyes  on 
Medusa's  face  as  reflected  in  his  shield.  The  nearer  he  came  the 
more  terrible  did  the  snaky  visage  and  metallic  body  of  the 
monster  grow.  At  last,  when  he  found  himself  hovering  over 
her  within  arm's  length,  Perseus  uplifted  his  sword,  while  at 
the  same  instant  each  separate  snake  upon  the  Gorgon's  head 
stretched  threateningly  upward  and  Medusa  unclosed  her  eyes. 
But  she  awoke  too  late.  The  sword  was  sharp,  the  stroke  fell 
like  a  lightning  flash,  and  the  head  of  the  wicked  Medusa  tum- 
bled from  her  body  ! 

"  Admirably  done  !  "  cried  Quicksilver.  "  Make  haste  and 
clap  the  head  into  your  magic  wallet." 

To  the  astonishment  of  Perseus,  the  small  embroidered 
wallet  which  he  had  hung  about  his  neck,  and  which  had 
hitherto  been  no  bigger  than  a  purse,  grew  all  at  once  large 
enough  to  contain  Medusa's  head.  As  quick  as  thought  he 
snatched  it  up,  with  the  snakes  still  writhing  upon  it,  and 
thrust  it  in. 

"  Your  task  is  done,"  said  the  calm  voice.  "  Now  fly,  for 
the  other  Gorgons  will  do  their  utmost  to  take  vengeance  for 
Medusa's  death." 

2 


498  THE   GORGON'S  HEAD. 

It  was  indeed  necessary  to  take  flight,  for  Perseus  had  not 
done  the  deed  so  quietly  but  that  the  clash  of  his  sword  and 
the  hissing  of  the  snakes  and  the  thump  of  Medusa's  head  as  it 
tumbled  upon  the  sea-beaten  sand  awoke  the  other  two  monsters. 
There  they  sat  for  an  instant,  sleepily  rubbing  their  eyes  with 
their  brazen  fingers,  while  all  the  snakes  on  their  heads  reared 
themselves  on  end  with  surprise  and  with  venomous  malice 
against  they  knew  not  what.  But  when  the  Gorgons  saw  the 
scaly  carcass  of  Medusa  headless,  and  her  golden  wings  all 
ruffled  and  half  spread  out  on  the  sand,  it  was  really  awful  to 
hear  what  yells  and  screeches  they  set  up.  And  then  the  snakes  ! 
They  sent  forth  a  hundredfold  hiss  with  one  consent,  and 
Medusa's  snakes  answered  them  out  of  the  magic  wallet. 

No  sooner  were  the  Gorgons  broad  awake  than  they  hurtled 
upward  into  the  air,  brandishing  their  brass  talons,  gnashing 
their  horrible  tusks,  and  flapping  their  huge  wings  so  wildly 
that  some  of  the  golden  feathers  were  shaken  out  and  floated 
down  upon  the  shore.  And  there,  perhaps,  those  very  feathers 
lie  scattered  till  this  day.  Up  rose  the  Gorgons,  as  I  tell  you, 
staring  horribly  about  in  hopes  of  turning  somebody  to  stone. 
Had  Perseus  looked  them  in  the  face,  or  had  he  fallen  into  their 
clutches,  his  poor  mother  would  never  have  kissed  her  boy  again. 
But  he  took  good  care  to  turn  his  eyes  another  way,  and  as  he 
wore  the  helmet  of  invisibility,  the  Gorgons  knew  not  in  what 
direction  to  follow  him  ;  nor  did  he  fail  to  make  the  best  use 
of  the  winged  slippers  by  soaring  upward  a  perpendicular  mile 
or  so.  At  that  height,  when  the  screams  of  those  abominable 
creatures  sounded  faintly  beneath  him,  he  made  a  straight 
course  for  the  island  of  Seriphus,  in  order  to  carry  Medusa's 
head  to  King  Polydectes. 

I  have  no  time  to  tell  you  of  several  marvelous  things  that 
befell  Perseus  on  his  way  homeward,  such  as  his  killing  a 
hideous  sea  monster  just  as  it  was  on  the  point  of  devouring 
a  beautiful  maiden,  nor  how  he  changed  an  enormous  giant  into 
a  mountain  of  stone  merely  by  showing  him  the  head  of  the 
Gorgon.  If  you  doubt  this  latter  story,  you  may  make  a  voy- 
age to  Africa  some  day  or  other  and  see  the  very  mountain, 
which  is  still  known  by  the  ancient  giant's  name. 

Finally,  our  brave  Perseus  arrived  at  the  island,  where  he 
expected  to  see  his  dear  mother.  But  during  his  absence  the 
wicked  king  had  treated  Danae  so  very  ill  that  she  was  com- 
pelled to  make  her  escape,  and  had  taken  refuge  in  a  temple, 


THE  GORGON'S  HEAD.  499 

where  some  good  old  priests  were  extremely  kind  to  her. 
These  praiseworthy  priests,  and  the  kind-hearted  fisherman 
who  had  first  shown  hospitality  to  Danae  and  little  Perseus 
when  he  found  them  afloat  in  the  chest,  seem  to  have  been  the 
only  persons  on  the  island  who  cared  about  doing  right.  All 
the  rest  of  the  people,  as  well  as  King  Polydectes  himself,  were 
remarkably  ill-behaved,  and  deserved  no  better  destiny  than 
that  which  was  now  to  happen. 

Not  finding  his  mother  at  home,  Perseus  went  straight  to  the 
palace,  and  was  immediately  ushered  into  the  presence  of  the 
king.  Polydectes  was  by  no  means  rejoiced  to  see  him,  for  he 
had  felt  almost  certain  in  his  own  evil  mind  that  the  Gorgons 
would  have  torn  the  poor  young  man  to  pieces  and  have  eaten 
him  up  out  of  the  way.  However,  seeing  him  safely  returned, 
he  put  the  best  face  he  could  upon  the  matter  and  asked  Per- 
seus how  he  had  succeeded. 

"  Have  you  performed  your  promise  ?  "  inquired  he.  "  Have 
you  brought  me  the  head  of  Medusa  with  the  snaky  locks  ?  If 
not,  young  man,  it  will  cost  you  dear,  for  I  must  have  a  bridal 
present  for  the  beautiful  Princess  Hippodamia,  and  there  is 
nothing  else  that  she  would  admire  so  much." 

"  Yes,  please  your  majesty,"  answered  Perseus  in  a  quiet  way, 
as  if  it  were  no  very  wonderful  deed  for  such  a  young  man  as 
he  to  perform.  "  I  have  brought  you  the  Gorgon's  head,  snaky 
locks,  and  all." 

"  Indeed !  Pray  let  me  see  it,"  quoth  King  Polydectes.  "  It 
must  be  a  very  curious  spectacle,  if  all  that  travelers  tell  about 
it  be  true." 

"Your  majesty  is  in  the  right,"  replied  Perseus.  "It  is 
really  an  object  that  will  be  pretty  certain  to  fix  the  regards 
of  all  who  look  at  it.  And,  if  your  majesty  think  fit,  I  would 
suggest  that  a  holiday  be  proclaimed,  and  that  all  your  majesty's 
subjects  be  summoned  to  behold  this  wonderful  curiosity.  Few 
of  them,  I  imagine,  have  seen  a  Gorgon's  head  before,  and  per- 
haps never  may  again." 

The  king  well  knew  that  his  subjects  were  an  idle  set  of  rep- 
robates, and  very  fond  of  sight-seeing,  as  idle  persons  usually 
are.  So  he  took  the  young  man's  advice,  and  sent  out  heralds 
and  messengers  in  all  directions  to  blow  the  trumpet  at  the 
street  corners  and  in  the  market  places  and  wherever  two  roads 
met,  and  summon  everybody  to  court.  Thither,  accordingly, 
came  a  great  multitude  of  good-for-nothing  vagabonds,  all  of 


500  THE  GORGON'S  HEAD. 

whom,  out  of  pure  love  of  miscliief,  would  liave  been  giad  if 
Perseus  had  met  with  some  ill  hap  in  his  encounter  with  the 
Gorgons.  If  there  were  any  better  people  in  the  island  (as  I 
really  hope  there  may  have  been,  although  the  story  tells 
nothing  about  any  such),  they  stayed  quietl}^  at  home,  minding 
their  own  business  and  taking  care  of  their  little  children. 
Most  of  the  inhabitants,  at  all  events,  ran  as  fast  as  they  could 
to  the  palace,  and  shoved  and  pushed  and  elbowed  one  another 
in  their  eagerness  to  get  near  a  balcony  on  which  Perseus 
showed  himself  holding  the  embroidered  wallet  in  his  hand. 

On  a  platform  within  full  view  of  the  balcony  sat  the  mighty 
King  Polydectes,  amid  liis  evil  counselors  and  with  his  flatter- 
ing courtiers  in  a  semicircle  round  about  him.  Monarch,  coun- 
selors, courtiers,  and  subjects  all  gazed  eagerly  toward  Perseus. 

"  Show  us  the  head !  Show  us  the  head  !  "  shouted  the 
people  ;  and  there  v/as  a  fierceness  in  their  cry,  as  if  they  would 
tear  Perseus  to  pieces  unless  he  should  satisfy  them  with  what 
he  had  to  show.  "  Show  us  the  head  of  Medusa  with  tlie  snakv 
locks !  " 

A  feeling  of  sorrov/  and  pity  came  over  the  youthful  Perseus. 

"  O  King  Polydectes,"  cried  he,  "  and  ye  many  people,  1  am 
very  loath  to  show  you  the  Gorgon's  head." 

"  Ah,  the  villain  and  coward !  "  yelled  tlie  people,  more 
fiercely  than  before.  "  He  is  making  game  of  us  !  He  has  no 
Gorgon's  head !  Show  us  the  head  if  you  liavc  it,  or  we  will 
take  your  own  head  for  a  football !  " 

The  evil  counselors  vrhispered  bad  advice  in  the  king's  ear ; 
the  courtiers  murmured,  with  one  consent,  that  Perseus  had 
shown  disrespect  to  their  royal  lord  and  master ;  and  the  great 
King  Polydectes  himself  waved  his  hand  and  ordered  him,  with 
the  stern,  deep  voice  of  authority,  on  his  peril  to  produce  the 
head :  — 

"  Show  me  the  Gorgon's  head  or  I  v.dll  cut  off  your  own  !  '* 

And  Perseus  sighed. 

"  This  instant,"  repeated  Polydectes,  "  or  3'ou  die  !  " 

"  Behold  it,  then !  "  cried  Perseus,  in  a  voice  like  the  blast  of 
a  trumpet. 

And  suddenly  holding  up  the  head,  not  an  eyelid  had  time 
to  wink  before  the  wicked  King  Polydectes,  his  evil  counselors, 
and  all  his  fierce  subjects  were  no  longer  anything  but  the  mere 
images  of  a  monarch  and  his  people.  They  were  all  fixed  for- 
ever in  the  look  and  attitude  of  that  moment.     At  the  first 


THE  PKAYER  OF  THE  SWINE  TO  CIRCE.  501 

glimpse  of  tlie  terrible  head  of  Medusa  they  whitened  into 
marble.  And  Perseus  thrust  the  head  back  into  his  wallet,  and 
went  to  tell  his  dear  mother  that  she  need  no  longer  be  afraid 
of  the  wicked  King  Polydectes. 


THE  PRAYER  OF  THE  SWINE  TO  CIRCE.' 

By  AUSTIN  DOBSON. 

[Henry  Austin  Donsosr:  Englisli  poet  and  biographer  ;  born  at  Plymouth, 
England,  January  18,  1840.  He  was  educated  as  a  civil  engineer,  but  since  185t3 
has  held  a  position  in  the  Board  of  Trade,  devoting  his  leisure  hours  to  literary 
work.  He  domesticated  the  old  French  stanza  form  in  English  verse,  and  has 
done  much  to  revive  an  interest  in  English  art  and  literature  of  the  eighteenth 
century.  "Vignettes  in  Rhyme,"  "At  the  Sign  of  the  Lyre,"  and  "  Troverbs 
in  Porcelain"  constitute  his  chief  poetical  works.  In  prose  he  has  written 
biographies  of  Bewick,  Walpole,  Hogarth,  Steele,  and  Goldsmith;  "Eighteenth- 
Century  Vignettes,"  etc.] 

HuDDLixG  they  came,  with  shag  sides  caked  of  mire,  — • 
With  hoofs  fresh  sullied  from  the  troughs  o'erturned,  — 
With  wrinkling  snouts,  —  yet  eyes  in  which  desire 
Of  some  strange  thing  unutteral)ly  burned, 
Unquenchable ;  and  still  where'er  She  turned 
They  rose  about  her,  striving  each  o'er  each, 
With  restless,  fierce  imp6rtuning  that  yearned 
Through  those  brute  masks  some  piteous  tale  to  teach, 
Yet  lacked  the  words  thereto,  denied  the  power  of  speech. 

For  these  —  Eurylochus  alone  escaping  — 
In  truth,  that  small  exploring  band  had  been. 
Whom  wise  Odysseus,  dim  precaution  shaping, 
Ever  at  heart,  of  peril  unforeseen, 
Had  sent  inland; — whom  then  the  islet  Queen, — 
The  fair  disastrous  daughter  of  the  Sun,  — 
Had  turned  to  likeness  of  the  beast  unclean. 
With  evil  wand  transforming  one  by  one. 
To  shapes  of  loathly  swine,  imbruted  and  undone. 

But  "the  men's  minds  remained,"  and  these  forever 
Made  hungry  suppliance  through  the  fire-red  eyes ; 
Still  searching  aye,  with  impotent  endeavor, 
To  find,  if  yet,  in  any  look,  there  lies        • 
A  saving  hope,  or  if  they  might  surprise 

'  El  cm  "  Collected  Poems."     By  permission  of  Kegan  Paul,  Trench, 
Triibner  &  Co.     8vo.,  price  6s. 


602  THE  PRAYER  OF  THE  SWINE  TO   CIRCE. 

In  that  cold  face  soft  pity's  spark  concealed, 
Which  she,  still  scorning,  evermore  denies ; 
Nor  was  there  in  her  any  ruth  revealed 
To  whom  with  such  mute  speech  and  dumb  words  they  appealed. 

What  hope  is  ours  —  ivhat  hope!     To  find  no  mercy 
After  much  loar,  and  many  travails  done?  — 
Ah,  kinder  far  than  thy  fell  philters,  Circe, 
Tlie  ravening  Cyclops  and  the  Lcestrigon! 
And  0,  thrice  cursM  be  Laertes^  son. 
By  ivhom,  at  last,  ive  watch  the  days  decline 
With  no  fair  ending  of  the  quest  begun. 
Condemned  in  sties  to  iceary  and  to  pine 
And  ivith  men's  hearts  to  beat  through  this  foul  front  of  swine  I 

For  us  not  now,  — for  us,  alas !  no  more 
The  old  green  glamour  of  the  glancing  sea; 
For  us  not  now  the  laughter  of  the  oar,  — 
The  strong-ribbed  keel  wherein  our  comrades  he; 
Not  now,  at  even,  any  more  shall  we, 
By  low-browed  banks  and  reedy  river  places. 
Watch  the  beast  hurry  and  the  wild  fowl  flee; 
Or  steering  shoreward,  in  the  upland  spaces. 
Have  sight  of  curling  smoke  and  fair-skinned  foreign  faces^ 

Alas  for  us! — for  ivhoni  the  columned  houses 
We  left  aforetime,  cheerless  must  abide; 
Cheerless  the  hearth  ivhere  now  no  guest  carouses,  — 
No  minstrel  raises  song  at  eventide; 
And  0,  more  cheerless  than  aught  else  beside, 
TJie  tcistful  hearts  loith  heavy  longing  full ;  — 
The  luife  that  ivatched  us  on  the  leaning  tide, — 
The  sire  ivhose  eyes  with  loeariness  are  dxdl, — 
The  mother  whose  sloiv  tears  fall  on  the  carded  wool. 

If  swine  ive  be,  —  if  ice  indeed  be  sivine. 
Daughter  of  Perse,  make  us  swine  indeed, 
Well-pleased  on  litter  straw  to  lie  supine, — 
Well-2:)leased  on  mast  and  acorn  shales  to  feed, 
Stirred  by  all  instincts  of  the  bestial  breed; 
But  0  Unmerciful !     0  Pitiless ! 
Leave  us  not  thus  ivith  sick  men's  hearts  to  bleed!  — 
To  waste  long  days  in  yearning,  dumb  distress 
And  memory  of  things  gone,  and  utter  hopelessness! 


THE  PRAYER  OF  THE  SWINE  TO  CIRCE.  503 

Leave  us  at  least,  if  not  the  tJdngs  ive  ?cere, 
At  least  consentient  to  the  thing  we  he; 
Not  hapless  doomed  to  loathe  the  forms  ice  hear, 
And  senseful  roll  in  senseless  savagery ; 
For  surely  cursed  above  all  cursed  are  we, 
And  surely  this  the  bitterest  of  ill;  — 
To  feel  the  old  aspirings  fair  and  free, 
Become  blind  motions  of  a  powerless  will 
Through  sioinelike  frames  dispersed  to  swinelike  issues  still. 

But  make  us  men  again,  for  that  thou  mayst ! 
Yea,  make  us  men,  Enchantress,  and  restore 
These  groveling  shapes,  degraded  and  debased, 
To  fair  embodiments  of  men  once  more;  — 
Yea,  by  all  men  that  ever  ivoman  bore;  — 
Yea,  e'en  by  him  hereafter  born  in  j)ain, 
Shall  draw  sustainment  from  thy  bosom's  core. 
O'er  whom  thy  face  yet  kindly  shall  remain. 
And  find  its  like  therein,  —  make  thou  us  men  again! 

Make  thou  us  men  again,  —  if  men  but  groping 
That  dark  Hereafter  which  th'  Olympians  keep. 
Make  thou  us  men  again,  —  if  men  but  hoping 
Behind  death's  doors  security  of  sleep;  — 
For  yet  to  laugh  is  somewhat,  and  to  iveep;  — 
To  feel  delight  of  living,  and  toploic 
The  salt-blown  acres  of  the  shoreless  deep;  — 
Better,  —  yea  better  far  all  these  than  boiv 
Foul  faces  to  foul  earth,  and  yearn  —  as  ice  do  noiv! 

So  they  in  speech  unsyllabled.     But  She, 
The  fair-tressed  Goddess,  born  to  be  their  bane, 
Uplifting  straight  her  Avand  of  ivory, 
Compelled  them  groaning  to  the  sties  again ; 
Where  they  in  hopeless  bitterness  were  fain 
To  rend  the  oaken  woodwork  as  before, 
And  tear  the  troughs  in  impotence  of  pain,  — 
Not  knowing,  they,  that  even  at  the  door 
Divine  Odysseus  stood,  —  as  Hermes  told  of  yore. 


504  THE  OLYMric  games. 

THE   OLYMPIC   GAMES/ 

By  GEORG  EBERS. 

(From  "An  Egyptian  Princess.") 

[Georo  Moritz  Ebers  :  German  Egyptologist  and  novelist ;  bom  at  Berlin, 
March  1, 1837.  He  was  educated  at  Gottingen  and  Berlin,  and  lectured  for  a  while 
at  Jena.  In  1870  he  became  professor  of  Egyptian  archeology  at  Leipsic,  resign- 
ing in  1889  on  account  of  ill  health.  Besides  several  important  works  on  Egyp- 
tology, he  has  published  a  series  of  historical  novels  treating  of  ancient  Egyptian 
life,  which  have  enjoyed  extraordinary  popularity  not  only  in  Germany  but  in 
other  countries.  Tlie  best  known  are:  "An  Egyptian  Princess,"  "Uarda," 
"  Homo  Sum,"  "  The  Sisters,"  "  Serapls,"  " The  Bride  of  the  Nile,"  and  "Cleo- 
patra." Also  popular  are :  "In  the  Fire  of  the  Forge,"  "The  Burgomaster's 
Wife,"  and  "  Gred."] 

Here  Aristomachus  interrupted  tlie  Athenian,  and  cried  : 
"  Enough  of  praise,  friend  Phanes.  Spartan  tongues  are  awk- 
ward, but  if  you  need  my  help,  I  will  answer  you  with  deeds, 
that  will  hit  the  right  nail  on  the  head." 

Rhodopis  smiled  approvingly  at  the  two  men.  Then  she 
gave  her  hand  to  each,  and  said  :  "  Unfortunately,  dear  Phanes, 
your  story  has  shown  me  that  you  can  no  longer  remain  in  this 
land.  I  Vv'ill  not  reproach  you  for  your  folly,  but  you  might 
have  known  that  you  were  braving  great  dangers  for  small 
results.  A  really  prudent  and  courageous  man  v>'ill  undertake 
^  bold  deed  only  when  the  benefit  which  might  accrue  to  him 
is  greater  than  the  disadvantages.  Rashness  is  just  as  foolish, 
though  not,  perhaps,  as  reprehensible,  as  cowardice,  for  though 
both  may  injure  a  man,  the  latter  alone  disgraces  him.  This 
time  your  carelessness  nearly  cost  you  your  life,  a  life  which  is 
•dear  to  many,  and  which  you  ought  to  preserve  for  a  better 
end  than  to  fall  a  victim  to  folly.  We  may  not  try  to  keep 
you  with  us,  for  we  could  not  help  you,  and  should  certainl}'- 
harm  ourselves.  This  noble  Spartan  shall  in  future  take  your 
place,  and  as  captain  of  the  Greeks  represent  our  nation  at 
court,  protect  it  from  the  encroachments  of  the  priests,  and  try 
to  preserve  the  king's  favor  for  it.  I  hold  your  hand,  Aristom- 
achus, and  will  not  let  it  go,  till  you  promise  to  act  as  Plianes 
did  before  you,  and  to  protect,  as  far  as  it  is  in  your  power, 
even  the  lowest  Greek  from  the  arrogance  of  the  Egyptians  ; 
to  resign  your  post  rather  than  let  the  most  trivial  crime  against 
a  Greek  escape  punishment.  Vv^'e  are  but  a  few  thousands  among 
•  By  permission  of  Geo.  Bell  &  Sons.    (Price  3«.  G? ) 


THE  OLYMriC   GAMES.  505 

as  many  millions,  all  hostile  to  us,  but  we  are  great  in  courage, 
and  must  strive  to  remain  strong  in  unity.  Till  to-day,  the 
Greeks  in  Egypt  have  acted  as  brothers.  One  sacrificed  him- 
self for  all,  all  for  one,  and  it  was  this  very  unity  that  made  us 
powerful,  that  will  keep  us  strong  in  the  future.  Would  that 
we  could  give  the  same  unity  to  our  native  land  and  its  colo- 
nies ;  would  that  all  the  races  of  our  home,  forgetful  of  their 
Dorian,  Ionic,  or  ^olian  descent,  Avould  content  themselves 
with  the  name  of  Greeks,  and  live  together  like  children  of 
one  house,  like  the  sheep  of  one  flock  ;  tlicn  the  whole  world 
would  not  be  able  to  resist  us.  Hellas  would  be  recognized  by 
all  nations  as  their  queen." 

Rhodopis'  eyes  flashed  as  she  spoke  ;  the  Spartan  pressed 
her  hand,  impetuously  stamped  on  the  fxoor  v/ith  his  wooden 
leg,  and  cried  :  "  By  Zeus,  no  one  shall  touch  a  Greek  while  I 
can  prevent  it.  But  you,  Rhodopis,  you  ought  to  have  been  a 
Spartan." 

"  An  Athenian,"  cried  Phanes. 

"An  Ionian,"  said  the  Milesian. 

"A  daughter  of  a  Samian  geomore,"  cried  the  sculptor. 

''  But  I  am  more  than  all  this,"  cried  Rhodopis,  with  enthu- 
siasm, "  I  am  a  Greek  !  " 

All  were  carried  av/ay  by  her  words.  Even  the  Syrian  and 
the  Hebrew  could  not  resist  the  general  enthusiasm.  The 
Sybarite  alone  remained  unmoved,  and  said,  with  his  mouth 
full  :  — 

"You  also  deserve  to  be  a  Sybarite,  for  your  beef  is  the 
best  that  I  have  tasted  since  I  left  Italy,  and  your  wine  of 
Anthylla  tastes  just  as  good  as  that  of  Vesuvius  and  Chios." 

All  laughed,  but  the  Spartan  looked  contemptuously  at  the 
Sybarite. 

"  Hail  !  friends,"  suddenly  cried  a  deep  voice  through  the 
open  window. 

"Welcome,"  answered  the  chorus  of  guests,  while  they 
wondered  who  the  late  arrival  was. 

They  had  not  long  to  wait  for  the  stranger  ;  before  the 
Sybarite  had  found  time  carefully  to  taste  another  sip  of  wine, 
a  tall  thin  man,  of  about  sixty,  with  a  long,  well-shaped,  intel- 
ligent head,  stood  beside  Rhodopis.  It  was  Callias,  son  of 
Phsenippus  of  Athens. 

The  late  visitor  was  one  of  the  wealthiest  exiles  of  Athens, 
who  had  twice  bought  the  property  of   Pisistratus   from   the 


606  THE  OLYMPIC   GAMES. 

state,  and  twice  lost  it  when  the  despot  returned  ;  he  looked 
at  liis  friends  with  bright,  keen  eyes,  and  cried,  after  he  had 
exchanged  friendly  greetings  with  all  :  — 

"  If  you  are  not  very  grateful  for  my  presence  to-day,  I  shall 
declare  that  all  gratitude  has  vanished  from  the  world." 

"  We  have  long  expected  you,"  interrupted  one  of  the  Mile- 
sians. "  You  are  the  first  to  bring  us  news  of  the  result  of  the 
Olympic  games." 

"  And  we  could  not  wish  for  a  better  messenger  than  the 
former  victor,"  added  Rhodopis. 

"  Sit  down,"  cried  Plianes,  full  of  impatience ;  "  tell  us 
briefly  and  concisely  what  you  know,  friend  Callias." 

"Directly,  countrymen,"  answered  Callias;  "it  is  some  time 
since  I  left  Olympia,  and  embarked  at  CenchreaB  on  a  Samian 
fifty-oared  ship,  the  best  vessel  that  was  ever  built.  I  am  not 
surprised  that  no  Greek  has  reached  Naucratis  before  me,  for 
we  encountered  frightful  storms,  and  would  scarcely  have 
escaped  with  our  lives,  if  these  Samian  boats,  with  their  fat 
stomachs,  tliin  beaks,  and  fish  tails,  were  not  so  splendidly 
built  and  manned.  Who  knows  whither  the  other  homeward- 
bound  travelers  may  have  been  driven  ;  we  were  able  to  take 
refuge  in  the  harbor  of  Samos,  and  to  depart  again  after  sixteen 
days. 

"  When  we  entered  the  Nile  early  this  morning,  I  at  once 
took  boat  and  was  speeded  on  my  way  by  Boreas,  who  wished 
to  show  that  he  still  loved  his  old  Callias,  so  that  a  few  minutes 
ago  I  saw  the  most  hospitable  of  houses  ;  I  saw  the  flag  fly, 
I  saw  the  open  windows  illuminated,  and  hesitated  as  to 
whether  or  no  I  should  enter  ;  but  I  could  not  resist  your 
charms,  Rhodopis,  and  besides  I  should  have  been  suifocated 
by  all  the  untold  news,  which  I  bear  with  me,  if  I  had  not 
landed,  in  order  to  enjoy  a  slice  of  meat  and  a  glass  of  wine, 
while  I  tell  events  of  which  you  do  not  dream." 

Callias  sank  down  comfortably  on  a  couch,  and  before  he 
began  his  meal  handed  Rhodopis  a  splendid  golden  bracelet 
in  the  shape  of  a  serpent,  which  he  had  bought  at  a  high  price, 
in  the  workshop  of  that  very  Theodorus  wdio  sat  at  table  with 
him. 

"  That  is  for  you,"  he  said,  turning  to  his  delighted  hostess. 
"But  I  have  something  still  better  for  you,  friend  Phanes. 
Guess  who  won  the  prize  in  the  race  with  the  quadriga  ?  " 

"  An  Athenian  ?  "  asked  Phanes,  with  glowing  cheeks,  for 


THE  OLYMPIC  GAMES.  507 

was  not  every  Olympic  victory  a  triumph  for  the  whole  com- 
munity to  which  tlie  victor  belonged,  and  was  not  the  Olympic 
olive  branch  the  highest  honor  and  greatest  happiness  which 
could  fall  to  the  lot  of  a  Greek,  or  even  to  a  whole  Greek 
race? 

"  Well  guessed,  Phanes,"  cried  the  messenger  of  joy.  "  An 
Athenian  has  won  the  first  prize  of  all,  and  what  is  more,  it  is 
your  cousin  Cimon,  son  of  Cypselos,  and  brother  of  that  Mil- 
tiades  who,  nine  Olympiads  ago,  gained  the  same  honor  for  us ; 
this  year  he  was  victorious  for  the  second  time  with  the  very 
horses  which  obtained  him  the  prize  at  the  last  festival.  Truly, 
the  Philsedse  obscure  more  and  more  the  fame  of  the  Alcmseon- 
idie.  Does  the  fame  of  your  family  make  you  proud  and 
happy,  friend  Phanes  ?  " 

Phanes  had  risen  in  great  joy  ;  he  seemed  suddenly  to  have 
increased  in  stature. 

Full  of  intense  pride,  he  gave  his  hand  to  the  messenger  of 
victory,  who  embraced  his  countryman,  and  continued  :  — 

"  We  may  indeed  feel  proud  and  happy,  Phanes,  and  you 
may  rejoice  above  all ;  for  after  the  judges  had  unanimously 
awarded  the  prize  to  Cimon,  he  bade  the  heralds  proclaim  the 
despot  Pisistratus  as  the  owner  of  the  splendid  horses,  and 
therefore  as  victor.  Pisistratus  at  once  announced  that  your 
family  might  now  return  to  Athens,  and  so  the  long-wished-for 
hour  of  return  has  come  to  you  at  last." 

At  these  words  the  glow  of  pleasure  faded  from  the  face  of 
the  officer,  and  the  conscious  pride  of  his  glances  changed  to 
anger,  as  he  cried  :  — 

"I  am  to  rejoice,  foolish  Callias  !  I  could  rather  weep  when 
I  think  that  a  descendant  of  Ajax  is  capable  of  ignominiously 
laying  his  well-merited  fame  at  the  feet  of  a  tyrant.  I  am  to 
return?  I  swear  by  Athene,  by  Father  Zeus,  and  Apollo,  that 
I  will  rather  starve  in  exile,  than  turn  my  steps  towards  home 
while  Pisistratus  tyrannizes  over  my  native  land.  I  am  free 
as  the  eagle  in  the  clouds,  now  that  I  have  left  the  service  of 
Amasis,  but  I  would  rather  be  the  hungry  slave  of  a  peasant, 
in  a  strange  land,  than  at  home,  the  first  servant  of  Pisistratus. 
The  power  in  Athens  belongs  to  us,  the  nobles,  but  Cimon, 
when  he  laid  his  wreath  at  the  feet  of  Pisistratus,  kissed  the 
scepter  of  the  tyrant,  and  stamped  himself  with  the  seal  of 
slavery.  I  will  tell  Cimon  that  to  me,  to  Phanes,  the  favor  of 
the  despot  is  of  little  consequence.     I  will  remain  an  exile  till 


508  THE  OLYMPIC   GAMES. 

my  country  is  free,  and  nobles  and  people  again  govern  them- 
selves and  dictate  their  own  laws.  Phanes  will  not  do  homage 
to  the  oppressor,  though  a  thousand  Cimons,  though  each  of 
the  Alcmteonidce,  though  the  whole  of  your  race,  Callias,  the 
wealthy  Daduchis,  throw  themselves  at  Pisistratus'  feet." 

He  surveyed  the  assembly  with  flaming  eyes,  and  old 
Callias,  too,  looked  at  the  guests  with  pride.  It  was  as  if  he 
wished  to  say  to  each  one  :  "  See,  my  friends,  such  are  the  men 
my  glorious  home  produces." 

Then  he  again  took  Phanes'  hand,  and  said  :  — 
"  My  friend,  the  oppressor  is  as  hateful  to  me  as  to  you  ;  but 
I  cannot  close  my  eyes  to  the  fact  that  as  long  as  Pisistratus 
lives,  tyranny  cannot  be  destroyed.  His  allies,  Lygadamus  of 
Naxos,  and  Polycrates  of  Samos,  are  powerful,  but  the  wisdom 
and  moderation  of  Pisistratus  are  more  dangerous  for  our  free- 
dom. I  saw  with  terror,  during  my  late  stay  in  Hellas,  that 
the  people  of  Athens  love  the  oppressor  like  a  father.  In  spite 
of  his  power,  he  leaves  the  spirit  of  Solon's  constitution  unal- 
tered. He  adorns  the  tov/n  with  most  beautiful  works  of  art. 
The  new  temple  of  Zeus,  v/hich  is  being  built  of  marble,  by 
Callceschrus,  Antistates,  and  Porinus,  v/hom  3'ou  know,  Theo- 
dorus,  is  to  surpass  all  buildings  which  the  Greeks  have  ever 
erected.  Pie  knows  liow  to  attract  artists  and  poets  of  every 
description  to  Athens ;  he  has  Homer's  songs  written  down, 
and  the  sayings  of  Musieus  of  Onomacritus  are  collected  by  his 
orders.  He  is  having  new  streets  built,  and  introduces  ncv/ 
festivals ;  trade  flourishes  under  his  rule,  and  in  spite  of  the 
heavy  taxes  imposed  on  the  people,  their  prosperity  seems  not 
to  diminish  but  to  increase.  But  what  is  the  people?  A  com- 
mon herd  that  flies,  like  a  moth,  towards  everything  that  glit- 
ters ;  though  it  scorches  its  wings,  it  still  flutters  round  the 
candle  while  it  burns.  Let  Pisistratus'  torch  be  extinguished, 
Phanes,  and  I  swear  to  you,  the  changeable  crowd  v/ill  greet 
the  new  light,  the  returning  nobles,  as  eagerly  as  it  greeted  the 
tyrant  but  a  short  time  ago.  Give  me  your  hand  again,  true 
son  of  Ajax ;  but,  my  friends,  I  have  still  much  to  tell  you. 
Cimon,  as  I  said,  won  the  chariot  race,  and  gave  his  olive 
branch  to  Pisistratus.  I  never  saw  four  more  splendid  horses. 
Areesilaus  of  Gyrene,  Cleosthenes  of  Epidamnus,  Aster  of 
Sybaris,  Hecataeus  of  Miletus,  and  many  others,  sent  beautiful 
horses  to  Olympia.  Altogether  the  games  were  unusually  bril- 
liant this  year.      All  Greece  sent  representatives,  llhoda,  the 


THE  OLYMPIC  GAMES.  609 

Ardeate  town  in  distant  Iberia,  wealthy  Tartessus,  Sinope,  in 
the  far  east,  on  the  shores  of  the  Pontus,  in  sliort,  every  race 
which   boasts   of   Greek   origin   was   well   represented.      The 
Sybarites  sent  messengers  to  the  festival,  whose  appearance 
was  simply  dazzling,  the  Spartans  simple  men,  with  the  beauty 
of  Achilles  and  the  stature  of  Hercules ;  the  Athenians  distin- 
guished themselves  by  supple  limbs  and  graceful  movements ; 
the  Crotonians  were  led  by  Milo,  the  strongest  man  of  human 
origin ;  the  Samians  and  Milesians  vied  with  the  Corinthians 
and  Mitylenians  in  splendor  and  magnificence.     The  flower  of 
the  youth  of  Greece  was  assembled  there,  and  many  beautiful 
maidens,  chiefly  from  Sparta,  sat  beside  men  of  every  rank  and 
nation  ;  they  had  come  to  Olympia  to  encourage  the  men  by 
their  applause.     The  market  was  on   the   other   side  of  the 
Alphoeus,  and  there  you  could  see  merchants  from  all  parts  of 
the  world.      Greeks,  Carchedonians,  Lydians,  Phrygians,  and 
bargaining   Phoenicians    from   Palestine   concluded   important 
affairs,  and  exposed  their  wares  in  tents  and  booths.     Why 
should  I  describe  to  you  the  surging  crowds,  the  resounding 
choruses,  the  smoking  hecatombs,  the  gay  dresses,  the  valuable 
chariots  and  horses,  the  confusion  of  many  tongues,  the  joyous 
cries  of  old  friends  who  met  again  after  years  of  separation, 
the    splendor   of   the   ambassadors   sent    to    the   festival,   the 
swarms  of    spectators   and    merchants,   the   excitement   as   to 
the  result  of  the  games,  the  splendid  spectacle  presented  by 
the  crowded  audience,  the  endless  delight  whenever  a  victory 
was  decided,  the  solemn  presentation  of  the  branch  which  a 
boy  of  Elis,  both  of  whose  parents  must  still  be  living,  cut  with 
a  golden  knife  from  the  sacred  olive  tree,  in  the  Altis,  which 
Hercules  himself  planted  many  centuries  ago?     Why  should 
I  describe  the  never-ending  shouts  of  joy  which  thundered 
through  the  Stadium  when  Milo  of  Crotona  appeared  and  bore 
the  bronze  statue  of  himself  by  Dameas  through  the  Stadium 
to  the  Altis  without  stumbling?     A  giant  would  have  been 
bowed  to  the  ground  by  the  weight  of  metal,  but  Milo  carried 
it  as  a  Lacediemonian  nurse  carries  a  little  boy.      The  finest 
v,^reaths   after  Cimon's   were  won   by  two   Spartan   brothers, 
Lysander  and  Maro,  sons  of  a  banished  noble,  Aristomachus. 
Maro  was  victor  in  the  running  match.      Lysander,   to   the 
delight  of  all  present,  challenged  INIilo,  the  irresistible  victor 
of  Pisa,  and  the  Pythian  and  Isthmian  games,  to  a  wrestling 
match.     Milo  was  taller  and  stronger  than  the  Spartan,  whose 


510  THE  OLYMPIC   GAMES. 

figure  resembled  Apollo's,  and  whose  great  youth  proved  that 
he  had  scarcely  outgrown  the  Pajdanomos. 

"  The  youth  and  the  man  stood  opposite  each  other  in  their 
nude  beauty,  glistening  with  golden  oil,  like  a  panther  and  a 
lion  preparing  for  combat.  Young  Lysander  raised  his  hands 
before  the  first  attack,  adjured  the  gods,  and  cried,  'For  my 
father,  my  honor,  and  Sparta's  fame ! '  The  Crotonian  gave 
the  youth  a  condescending  smile,  like  that  of  a  dainty  eater 
before  he  begins  to  open  the  shell  of  a  langusta. 

"  Now  the  wrestling  began.  For  a  long  while  neither  could 
take  hold  of  the  other.  The  Crotonian  tried  with  his  powerful, 
almost  irresistible,  arms  to  seize  his  adversary,  who  eluded  the 
terrible  gras^i  of  the  athlete's  clawlike  hands.  The  struggle 
for  the  embrace  lasted  long,  and  the  immense  audience  looked 
on,  silent  and  breathless.  Not  a  sound  was  heard,  save  the 
panting  of  the  combatants,  and  the  singing  of  the  birds  in 
the  Altis.  At  last  —  at  last,  with  the  most  beautiful  move- 
ment I  ever  saw,  the  youth  was  able  to  clasp  his  adversary. 
For  a  long  while  Milo  exerted  himself  in  vain  to  free  himself 
from  the  firm  hold  of  the  youth.  The  perspiration  caused 
by  the  terrible  contest  amply  watered  the  sand  of  the 
Stadium. 

"The  excitement  of  the  spectators  increased  more  and  more, 
the  silence  became  deeper  and  deeper,  the  encouraging  cries 
grew  rarer,  the  groans  of  the  two  combatants  waxed  more  and 
more  audible.  At  last  the  youth's  strength  gave  way.  An 
encouraging  cry  from  thousands  of  throats  cheered  him  on ;  he 
collected  his  strength  with  a  superhuman  effort,  and  tried  to 
throw  himself  again  on  his  adversary,  but  the  Crotonian  had 
noticed  his  momentary  exhaustion,  and  pressed  the  youth  in  an 
irresistible  embrace.  A  stream  of  black  blood  gushed  from  the 
beautiful  lips  of  the  youth,  who  sank  lifeless  to  the  earth  from 
the  wearied  arms  of  the  giant.  Democedes,  the  most  celebrated 
physician  of  our  days,  you  Samians  must  have  seen  him  at  Poly- 
crates'  court,  hurried  up,  but  no  art  could  help  the  happy  youth, 
for  he  was  dead. 

"  Milo  was  obliged  to  resign  the  wreath,  and  the  fame  of 
the  youth  will  resound  through  all  Greece.  Truly,  I  would 
rather  be  dead  like  Lj^sander,  son  of  Aristomachus,  than  live 
like  Callias,  to  know  an  inactive  old  age  in  a  strange  land.  All 
Greece,  represented  by  its  best  men,  accompanied  the  body  of 
the  beautiful  youth  to  the  funeral  pyre,  and  his  statue  is  to  be 


THE  OLYMPIC  GAMES.  511 

placed  in  the  Altis,  beside  those  of  Mile  of  Croton,  and  Praxid- 
amas  of  vEgina. 

"  Finally,  the  heralds  proclaimed  the  award  of  the  judges. 
'  Sparta  shall  receive  a  victor's  wreath  for  the  dead  man,  for  it 
was  not  Milo  but  death  who  conquered  noble  Lysander,  and  he 
who  goes  forth  unconquered  after  a  two  hours'  struggle  with 
the  strongest  of  the  Greeks,  is  well  deserving  of  the  olive 
branch.'" 

Callias  was  silent  for  a  minute.  In  the  excitement  of 
describing  these  events,  more  precious  than  aught  else  to  the 
Greek  heart,  he  had  paid  no  attention  to  those  present,  but  had 
stared  straight  before  him  while  the  images  of  the  combatants 
passed  before  his  mind's  eye.  Now  he  looked  round,  and  saw, 
to  his  surprise,  that  the  gray -haired  man  with  the  wooden  leg, 
who  had  already  attracted  his  attention,  although  he  did  not 
know  him,  had  hidden  his  face  in  his  hands,  and  was  shedding 
scalding  tears. 

Rhodopis  stood  on  his  right,  Phanes  on  his  left,  and  every- 
one looked  at  the  Spartan  as  though  he  were  the  hero  of  the 
story. 

The  quick  Athenian  saw  at  once  that  the  old  man  was 
closely  related  to  one  of  the  Olympic  victors  ;  but  when  he  heard 
that  Aristomachus  was  the  father  of  those  two  glorious  Spartan 
brothers,  whose  beautiful  forms  still  haunted  him  like  visions 
from  the  world  of  the  gods,  he  looked  with  envious  admiration 
on  the  sobbing  old  man,  and  his  clear  eyes  filled  with  tears, 
which  he  did  not  try  to  keep  back.  In  those  days  men  wept 
whenever  they  hoped  that  the  solace  of  tears  would  relieve 
them.  In  anger,  in  great  joy,  in  every  affliction,  we  find  strong 
heroes  weeping,  while,  on  the  other  hand,  the  Spartan  boy 
would  let  himself  be  severely  scourged,  even  to  death,  at  the 
altar  of  Artemis  Orthia,  in  order  to  gain  the  praise  of  the  men. 

For  a  time  all  the  guests  remained  silent  and  respected  the 
old  man's  emotion.  At  length  Jeshua,  the  Israelite,  who  had 
abstained  from  all  food  which  was  prepared  in  Greek  fashion, 
broke  the  silence  and  said  in  broken  Greek  :  — 

"  Weep  your  fill.  Spartan.  I  know  what  it  is  to  lose  a  son. 
Was  I  not  forced,  eleven  years  ago,  to  lay  a  beautiful  boy  in 
the  grave  in  a  strange  land,  by  the  waters  of  Babylon  where 
my  people  pined  in  captivity?  If  my  beautiful  child  had  lived 
but  one  year  longer,  he  would  have  died  at  home,  and  we  could 
have  laid  him  in  the  grave  of   his   fathers.      But  Cyrus   the 


512  THE  OLYMPIC   GAMES. 

Persian,  may  Jehovah  bless  his  descendants,  freed  us  a  year 
too  Late  and  I  must  grieve  doulily  for  my  beloved  child,  because 
liis  grave  is  dug  in  the  land  of  Israel's  foes.  Is  anything  more 
terrible  than  to  see  our  children,  our  best  treasures,  sink  in  tlie 
grave  before  us?  Adonai  have  mercy  on  me;  to  lose  such 
an  excellent  child  as  your  son,  just  when  he  had  become  a 
famous  man,  must  be  the  greatest  of  griefs." 

The  Spartan  removed  his  hands  from  his  stern  face  and 
said,  smiling  amidst  his  tears  :  "  You  are  mistaken,  Phoeni- 
cian, I  weep  with  joy  and  I  would  gladly  have  lost  my  second 
son,  had  he  died  like  Lysander." 

The  Israelite,  horrified  at  this  statement,  which  seemed 
wicked  and  unnatural  to  him,  contented  himself  with  shaking 
his  head  in  disapproval ;  the  Greeks  overwhelmed  tlie  old  man, 
whom  they  all  envied,  with  congratulations.  Intense  joy 
seemed  to  liave  made  Aristomachus  many  years  younger,  and 
he  said  to  Rhodopis  :  "  Truly,  friend,  your  house  is  a  blessed 
one  for  me  ;  this  is  the  second  gift  I  have  received  from  the 
gods  since  I  entered  it." 

"  And  v/hat  was  the  first  ?  "  asked  the  matron. 

"A  favorable  oracle." 

"You  forget  tlie  third  gift,"  cried  Phanes.  "The  gods 
permitted  you  to  become  acquainted  with  Rhodopis  to-day. 
But  what  about  the  oracle  ?  " 

"May  I  tell  our  friends?  "  asked  the  Delphian. 

Aristomachus  nodded  consent,  and  Phryxus  again  read  the 
answer  of  the  oracle :  — 

"  When  from  the  snow-clad  heights  descend  the  men  in  their  armor, 
Down  to  the  shores  of  the  winding  stream  which  Avaters  the  valley, 
Then  the  delaying  boat  shall  conduct  you  unto  the  meadov.'S 
Where  the  peace  of  home  is  to  the  wanderer  given. 
When  from  the  snow-clad  heights  descend  the  men  in  their  armor, 
Then  what  the  judging  five  have  long  refused  shall  be  granted." 

Scarcely  had  Phryxus  read  the  last  Avord,  v/hen  Callias,  the 
Athenian,  rose  gracefully  from  his  seat  and  cried :  "  The 
fourth  gift,  the  fourth  gift  of  tlie  gods,  you  shall  also  receive 
from  me  in  this  house.  Know,  then,  that  I  kept  my  strangest 
tidings  till  last.     The  Persians  are  coming  to  Egypt." 

All  the  guests  sprang  from  their  seats  except  the  Sj^barite, 
and  Callias  could  scarcely  answer  all  their  questions. 

"  Patience,  patience,  friends,"  he  cried  at  last :  "  let  me  tell 


THROWING   THE   DISCUS 


THE  OLYMPIC   GAMES.  513 

everything  in  order,  else  I  shall  never  finish.  It  is  not  an 
army,  as  you  think,  Plumes,  but  an  embassy  from  Cambyses, 
the  present  king  of  powerful  Persia,  which  is  on  its  way  hither. 
I  heard  at  Samos  that  they  have  already  reached  Miletus. 
They  will  arrive  here  in  a  few  days.  Relations  of  the  king, 
and  even  old  Croesus  of  Lydia,  are  with  them.  We  shall  see 
rare  splendor.  No  one  knows  the  reason  of  their  coming,  but 
it  is  thought  that  King  Cambyses  will  propose  an  alliance  to 
Amasis  ;  it  is  even  said  that  the  king  wishes  to  avoo  tlie 
daughter  of  the  Pharaohs." 

"  An  alliance,"  said  Phanes,  with  an  incredulous  shrug ; 
"the  Persians  already  rule  half  the  world.  All  the  chief 
powers  of  Asia  bow  to  their  scepter.  Only  Egypt  and  our 
Greece  have  remained  safe  from  the  conqueror." 

"  You  forget  golden  India,  and  the  great  nomadic  races  of 
Asia,"  returned  Callias.  "  You  also  forget  that  an  empire 
which  consists  of  seventy  races,  possessing  different  languages 
and  customs,  always  bears  in  it  the  seeds  of  rebellion,  and  must 
be  on  its  guard  against  foreign  wars,  lest  some  of  the  provinces 
seize  the  favorable  moment  for  revolt  when  the  main  body  of 
the  army  is  absent.  Ask  the  Milesians  whether  they  would 
keep  quiet,  if  they  heard  that  the  chief  forces  of  their  oppressor 
had  been  defeated  in  battle." 

Theopompus,  the  merchant  of  Miletus,  interrupted  the 
speaker  and  cried  eagerly  :  "  If  the  Persians  are  defeated 
in  war,  they  will  be  attacked  by  a  hundred  foes,  and  my 
countrymen  will  not  be  the  last  to  rise  against  the  weakened 
tyrant." 

"  V/hatever  the  intentions  of  the  Persians  may  be,"  con- 
tinued Callias,  "I  maintain  that  they  will  be  here  in  three 
days." 

"And  so  your  oracle  will  be  fulfilled,  happy  Aristomachus," 
cried  Pthodopis.  "  The  horsemen  from  the  mountains  can  be 
none  other  than  the  Persians.  When  they  reach  the  shores  of 
the  Nile,  the  five  ephors  will  have  changed  their  minds  and  you, 
the  father  of  two  Olympic  victors,  will  be  recalled.  Fill  the 
goblets  again,  Cnacias.  Let  us  drink  the  last  cup  to  the  manes 
of  famous  Lysander,  and  then,  though  unwillingly,  I  must  warn 
you  of  the  approach  of  day.  The  host  who  loves  his  guests  rises 
from  table  when  the  joy  reaches  its  climax.  The  pleasant 
memory  of  this  untroubled  evening  will  soon  bring  you  back 
to  this  house,  whereas  you  v/ould  be  less  willing  to  return  if 
3 


514  ARION. 

you  were  forced  to  think   of   the   hours   of  depression  which 
followed  your  enjoyment." 

All  the  guests  agreed  with  Rhodopis,  and  Ibycus  praised  the 
festive  and  pleasurable  excitement  of  the  evening  and  called  her 
a  true  disciple  of  Pythagoras. 

Every  one  prepared  for  departure  ;  even  the  Sybarite,  who 
to  drown  the  emotion,  which  annoyed  him,  had  drunk  im- 
moderately, raised  himself  from  his  comfortable  position  with 
the  assistance  of  his  slaves,  who  had  been  summoned,  and  mut- 
tered something  about  violated  hospitality. 

When  Rhodopis  held  out  her  hand  to  him  on  bidding  him 
farewell  he  cried,  overcome  by  the  wine:  "By  Hercules, 
Rhodopis,  you  turn  us  out  of  doors  as  if  we  were  importunate 
creditors.  I  am  not  accustomed  to  leave  the  table  as  long  as  I 
can  stand,  and  I  am  still  less  accustomed  to  be  shown  the  door 
like  a  parasite." 

"  Do  you  not  understand,  you  immoderate  drinker ?  " 

began  Rhodopis,  trying  to  excuse  herself  and  smiling;  but 
Philoinus  who,  in  his  present  mood,  was  irritated  by  this  retort, 
laughed  scornfully  and  cried,  staggering  to  the  door:  "You 
call  me  an  immoderate  drinker  ;  well,  I  call  you  an  insolent 
slave.  By  Dionysus,  it  is  easy  to  see  what  you  were  in  your 
youth.  Farewell,  slave  of  ladmon  and  Xanthus,  freed  slave 
of  Charaxus." 

He  had  not  finished,  when  the  Spartan  threw  himself  on  him, 
gave  him  a  violent  blow  with  his  fist,  and  carried  the  unconscious 
man,  like  a  child,  to  the  boat  which,  with  his  slaves,  awaited  him 
at  the  gate  of  the  garden. 


ARION.^ 

By  GEORGE  ELIOT. 

(Herodotus  i.  24.) 

[George  Eliot,  pseudonym  of  Mrs.  Marian  Evans  Cross :  A  famous  English 
novelist ;  born  in  Warwickshire,  England,  November  22,  1819.  After  the  deatli 
of  her  father  (1849)  she  settled  in  London,  where  she  became  assistant  editor  of 
the  Westminster  Beview  (1851).  In  1854  she  formed  a  union  with  George  Henry 
Lewes,  and  after  his  death  married,  in  1880,  John  Walter  Cross.  "  Scenes  of 
Clerical  Life  "  first  established  her  reputation  as  a  writer,  and  was  followed  by  the 
novels  "Adam  Bede,"  "The  Mill  on  the  Floss,"  "Silas  Marner,"  "Romola," 

'  By  permission  of  the  exccutjra  aiid  W.  Black -ivood  &  Sons. 


ARION.  515 

"Felix  Holt,"  "Middlemarch,"  and  "Daniel  Deronda."  Among  her  other 
works  may  be  mentioned  "The  Spanish  Gypsy,"  a  drama,  and  the  poems 
"Agatha,"  "The  Legend  of  Jubal,"  and  "Armgart."] 

Ariox,  whose  melodic  soul 
Taught  the  dithyramb  to  roll 

Like  forest  fires,  and  sing 

Olympian  suffering, 

Had  carried  his  diviner  lore 
From  Corinth  to  the  sister  shore 

Where  Greece  could  largelier  be, 

Branching  o'er  Italy. 

Then  weighted  with  his  glorious  name 
And  bags  of  gold,  aboard  he  came 

'Mid  harsh  seafaring  men 

To  Corinth  bound  again. 

The  sailors  eyed  the  bags  and  thought : 
"  The  gold  is  good,  the  man  is  naught  — 

And  who  shall  track  the  wave 

That  opens  for  his  grave  ?  " 

With  brawny  arms  and  cruel  eyes 
They  press  around  him  where  he  lies 

In  sleep  beside  his  lyre. 

Hearing  the  Muses  quire. 

He  waked  and  saw  this  wolf-faced  Death 
Breaking  the  dream  that  filled  his  breath 

With  the  inspiration  strong 

Of  yet  unchanted  song. 

*'  Take,  take  my  gold  and  let  me  live ! " 
He  prayed,  as  kings  do  when  they  give 

Their  all  with  royal  will. 

Holding  born  kingship  still. 

To  rob  the  living  they  refuse, 
One  death  or  other  he  must  choose; 

Either  the  watery  pall 

Or  wounds  and  burial.  " 

"  My  solemn  robe  then  let  me  don, 
Give  me  high  space  to  stand  upon, 

That  dying  I  may  pour 

A  song  unsung  before." 


516  THE  STORY  OF  CRCESUS. 

It  pleased  them  well  to  grant  this  prayer, 
To  hear  for  naught  how  it  might  fare 

With  men  who  paid  their  gold 

Tor  what  a  poet  sold. 

In  flowing  stole,  his  eyes  aglow 
TVith  inward  fire,  he  neared  the  prow 

And  took  his  godlike  stand,    ^ 

The  cithara  in  hand. 

The  wolfish  men  all  shrank  aloof, 
And  feared  this  singer  might  be  proof 

Against  their  nuirdercus  power, 

After  his  lyric  hour. 

But  he,  in  liberty  of  song, 
Fearless  of  death  or  other  wrong, 
With  full  spondaic  toll 
Toured  forth  his  mighty  soul  : 

Poured  forth  the  strain  his  dream  had  taught, 
A  nome  with  lofty  passion  fraught 

Such  as  makes  battles  won 

On  fields  of  Marathon. 

The  last  long  vowels  trembled  then 
As  awe  within  those  wolfish  men : 
They  said,  with  mutual  stare, 
Some  god  was  present  there. 

But  lo !  Arion  leaped  on  high, 
Keady,  his  descant  done,  to  die; 
Not  asking,  "  Is  it  well  ?  " 
Like  a  pierced  eagle  fell. 
1873. 


THE   STORY   OF   CRCESUS. 

By  HERODOTUS. 

[Herodotus  :  A  celebrated  Greek  liistorian,  suruamed  "  Tlie  Fatlier  of  His- 
tory" ;  born  between  b.c.  490  and  b.c.  480  at  Halicarnassus  in  Asia  Minor, 
While  his  country  was  being  oppressed  by  the  tyrant  Lygdamis,  he  withdrew  to 
Samos,  and  subsequently  traveled  extensively  in  Europe,  Asia,  and  Africa.  ^  Hav- 
i'lg  later  assisted  in  the  expulsion  of  Lygdamis,  he  took  part  in  the  colonization 


THE  STORY  OF  CRCESUS.  6l7 

of  niurii  ia  soutliern  Ilalj-,  and  gave  public  readings  from  his  writings.  He  died 
about  u.c.  420.  His  monumental  work,  "  The  Histories,"  consists  of  nine  books, 
named  from  the  nine  Muses,  and  treats  of  the  history  of  tlic  Greeks  and  barba- 
rians from  the  Persian  invasion  of  Greece  down  to  B.C.  479.  It  marks  the  begin- 
ning of  historical  writing  among  the  Greeks.] 

Ciia^sus  was  a  Lydian  by  birth  ;  son  of  Alyattes,  and  sover- 
eign of  the  nations  on  this  side  the  river  Halys.  He  was  the 
first  barbarian  we  know  of  that  subjected  some  of  the  Greeks 
to  the  payment  of  tribute,  and  formed  alliances  with  others. 
He  subdued  the  lonians  and  il^olians,  and  the  Dorians  in  Asia, 
and  formed  an  alliance  with  the  Lacedsemonians.  Before  the 
reign  of  Croesus  all  the  Greeks  Avere  free  ;  for  the  incursion  of 
the  Cimmerians  into  Ionia  was  not  for  the  purpose  of  subject- 
ing states,  but  an  irruption  for  plunder. 

The  government,  which  formerly  belonged  to  the  Heraclidse, 
passed  in  the  following  manner  to  the  family  of  Croesus,  who 
vrere  called  Mermnadse.  Candaules  was  tyrant  of  Sardis,  and 
a  descendant  of  Hercules.  He  was  ertamored  of  his  own  wife, 
and  thought  her  by  far  the  most  beautiful  of  women.  Gyges, 
one  of  his  bodyguard,  happened  to  be  his  especial  favorite  ;  and 
to  him  Candaules  confided  his  most  important  affairs,  and 
moreover  extolled  the  beauty  of  his  wife  in  exaggerated  terms. 
At  last  (for  he  was  fated  to  be  miserable)  he  addressed  Gyges 
as  follows:  "Gyges,  as  I  think  you  do  not  believe  me  when 
I  speak  of  my  wife's  beauty  (for  the  ears  of  men  are  natu- 
rally more  incredulous  than  their  eyes),  you  must  contrive  to 
see  her  naked." 

But  he,  exclaiming  loudly,  answered :  "  Sire,  what  a  shock- 
ing proposal  do  you  make,  bidding  me  behold  my  queen 
naked!  With  her  clothes  a  woman  puts  off  her  modesty. 
Wise  maxims  have  been  of  old  laid  down  by  men;  from 
these  it  is  our  duty  to  learn :  among  them  is  the  following :  — 

"  'Let  every  man  look  to  the  things  that  concern  himself.' 
I  am  persuaded  that  she  is  the  most  beautiful  of  her  sex,  but  I 
entreat  of  you  not  to  require  what  is  wicked." 

Saying  thus,  Gyges  fought  off  the  proposal,  dreading  lest 
some  harm  should  befall  himself  ;  but  the  king  answered  : 
"  Gyges,  take  courage,  and  be  not  afraid  of  me,  as  if  I  desired 
to  make  trial  of  you  by  speaking  thus  ;  nor  of  my  wife,  lest 
any  harm  should  befall  you  from  her :  for  I  will  so  contrive 
that  she  shall  not  know  she  has  been  seen  by  you.  I  will 
place  you  behind  the  open  door  of  the  apartment  in  which  we 


518  THE  STORY  OF  CRCESUS. 

sleep  :  as  soon  as  I  enter,  my  wife  will  come  to  bed.  There 
stands  by  the  entrance  a  chair  ;  on  this  she  will  lay  her  gar- 
ments one  by  one  as  she  takes  them  off,  and  then  she  will  give 
you  an  opportunity  to  look  at  her  at  your  leisure  :  but  when 
she  steps  from  the  chair  to  the  bed,  and  you  are  at  her  back, 
be  careful  that  she  does  not  see  you  as  you  are  going  out  by  the 
door." 

Gyges  therefore,  finding  he  could  not  escape,  prepared  to 
obey.  And  Candaules,  when  it  seemed  to  be  time  to  go  to  bed, 
led  him  to  the  chamber,  and  the  lady  soon  afterward  appeared, 
and  Gyges  saw  her  enter  and  lay  her  clothes  on  the  chair  : 
when  he  was  at  her  back,  as  the  lady  was  going  to  the  bed,  he  crept 
secretly  out,  but  she  saw  him  as  he  was  going  away.  Perceiv- 
ing what  her  husband  had  done,  she  neither  cried  out  through 
modesty,  nor  appeared  to  notice  it,  purposing  to  take  vengeance 
on  Candaules  ;  for  among  the  Lydians  and  almost  all  the  bar- 
barians, it  is  deemed  a  great  disgrace  even  for  a  man  to  be  seen 
naked. 

At  the  time,  therefore,  having  shown  no  consciousness  of 
what  had  occurred,  she  held  her  peace  ;  and  as  soon  as  it  v/as 
day,  having  prepared  such  of  her  domestics  as  she  knew  were 
most  to  be  trusted,  she  sent  for  Gyges.  He,  supposing  that 
she  knew  nothing  of  what  had  happened,  came  v/hen  he  was 
sent  for,  for  he  had  been  before  used  to  attend  whenever  the 
queen  sent  for  him.  When  Gyges  came,  the  lady  thus  addressed 
him :  "  Gyges,  I  submit  two  proposals  to  your  choice  :  either 
kill  Candaules  and  take  possession  of  me  and  of  the  Lydian 
kingdom,  or  expect  immediate  death,  so  that  you  may  not,  from 
your  obedience  to  Candaules  in  all  things,  again  see  what 
you  ought  not.  It  is  necessary  that  he  who  planned  this,  or 
that  you  who  have  seen  me  naked,  and  have  done  what  is  not 
decorous,  should  die." 

Gyges  for  a  time  was  stunned  at  what  he  heard  ;  but  after- 
ward he  implored  her  not  to  compel  him  to  make  such  a  choice. 
He  could  not  persuade  her,  however,  but  saw  the  necessity 
imposed  on  him  either  to  kill  his  master  Candaules  or  die  him- 
self by  the  hands  of  others  ;  he  therefore  chose  to  survive,  and 
made  the  following  inquiry  :  "  Since  you  compel  me  to  kill  my 
master  against  my  will,  tell  me  how  we  shall  lay  hands  on  him." 

She  answered :  "  The  assault  shall  be  made  from  the  very 
spot  whence  he  showed  me  naked  ;  the  attack  shall  be  made  on 
him  while  asleep." 


THE  STORY  OF  CRCESUS.  619 

When  they  had  concerted  their  plan,  on  the  approach  of 
night  he  followed  the  lady  to  the  cliamber  ;  then  (for  Gyges 
was  not  suffered  to  depart,  nor  was  there  any  possibility  of 
escape,  but  either  he  or  Candaules  must  needs  perish)  she, 
having  given  him  a  dagger,  concealed  him  behind  the  same 
door  ;  and  after  this,  when  Candaules  was  asleep,  Gyges  crept 
stealthily  up  and  slew  him,  possessing  himself  both  of  the  woman 
and  the  kingdom. 

Thus  Gyges  obtained  the  kingdom,  and  was  confirmed  in  it 
by  the  oracle  at  Delphi.  For  when  the  Lydians  resented  the 
murder  of  Candaules,  and  were  up  in  arms,  the  partisans  of 
Gyges  and  the  other  Lydians  came  to  the  following  agreement : 
that  if  the  oracle  should  pronounce  him  king  of  the  Lydians, 
he  should  reign  ;  if  not,  he  should  restore  the  power  to  the 
Heraclidjs.  The  oracle,  however,  ansvv^ered  accordingly,  and 
so  Gyges  became  king.  But  the  Pythian  added  this,  "  that 
the  Heraclidce  should  be  avenged  on  the  fifth  descendant  of 
Gyges."  Of  this  prediction  neither  the  Lydians  nor  their  kings 
took  any  notice  until  it  was  actually  accomplished. 

Thus  the  Mermnadse,  having  deprived  the  Heraclida?,  pos- 
sessed themselves  of  the  supreme  pov/er.  Gyges,  when  he 
obtained  the  sovereignty,  led  an  army  against  Miletus  and 
Smyrna,  and  took  the  city  of  Colophon  ;  but  as  he  performed 
no  other  great  action  during  his  reign  of  eight  and  thirty  years, 
we  will  pass  him  over,  having  made  this  mention  of  him. 

I  will  proceed  to  mention  Ardys,  the  son  and  successor  of 
Gyges.  He  took  Priene,  and  invaded  Miletus.  During  the 
time  that  he  reigned  at  Sardis,  the  Cimmerians,  being  driven 
from  tlieir  seats  by  the  Scythian  nomades,  passed  into  Asia,  and 
possessed  themselves  of  all  Sardis  except  the  citadel. 

When  Ardys  had  reigned  forty -nine  years,  his  son  Sadyattes 
succeeded  him,  and  reigned  twelve  years ;  and  Alyattes  suc- 
ceeded Sadyattes.  He  made  war  upon  Cyaxares,  a  descendant 
of  Deioces,  and  upon  the  Medes.  He  drove  the  Cimmerians  out 
of  Asia  ;  took  Smyrna,  v»^hich  was  founded  from  Colophon,  and 
invaded  Clazomence.  From  this  place  he  departed,  not  as  he 
could  v>dsh,  but  signally  defeated. 


Periander  was  king  of  Corinth,  and  the  Corinthians  say  (and 
the  Lesbians  confirm  their  account)  that  a  wonderful  prodigy 
occurred  in  his  lifetime.     They  say  that  Arion  of  Methymna, 


520  THE  STORY  OF  CRCESUS. 

wlio  Avas  second  to  none  of  liis  time  in  accompanying  tlic  harp, 
and  Vv'ho  was  the  lirst,  that  wc  are  acquainted  with,  who  com- 
posed, named,  and  represented  the  dithyrambus  at  Corinth,  was 
carried  to  Tanarus  on  the  back  of  a  dolphin. 

Tliey  say  that  this  Arion,  having  continued  a  long  time  with 
Periander,  was  desirous  of  making  a  voyage  to  Italy  and  Sicily  ; 
and  that  having  acquired  great  wealth,  he  determined  to  return 
to  Corinth  :  that  he  set  out  from  Tarentum,  and  hired  a  ship  of 
certain  Corinthians,  because  he  put  more  confidence  in  them  than 
in  any  other  nation  ;  but  that  these  men,  Avhen  they  were  in  the 
open  sea,  conspired  together  to  throw  him  overboard  and  seize 
his  money,  and  he,  being  aware  of  this,  offered  them  his  money, 
and  erxtreated  them  to  spare  his  life.  However,  he  could  not 
prevail  on  them  ;  but  the  sailors  ordered  him  either  to  kill  him- 
self, that  he  might  be  buried  ashore,  or  to  leap  immediately  into 
the  sea.  Arion,  reduced  to  this  strait,  entreated  them,  since 
such  was  their  determination,  to  permit  him  to  stand  on  the 
poop  in  his  full  dress  and  sing,  and  he  promised  when  he  had 
sung  to  make  away  with  himself.  The  seamen,  pleased  that 
they  should  hear  the  best  singer  in  the  vrorld,  retired  from  the 
stern  to  the  middle  of  the  vessel.  Arion,  having  put  on  all  his 
robes,  and  taken  his  harp,  stood  on  the  rowing  benches  and  went 
through  the  Orthian  strain  ;  when  the  strain  vras  ended  he 
leaped  into  the  sea  as  he  was,  in  his  full  dress  ;  and  the  sailors 
continued  their  voyage  to  Corinth :  but  they  say  that  a  dolphin 
received  liira  on  his  back,  and  carried  him  to  Tsenarus  ;  and  that 
he,  having  landed,  proceeded  to  Corinth  in  his  full  dress,  and 
upon  his  arrival  there,  related  all  that  had  happened ;  but  that 
Periander,  giving  no  credit  to  his  relation,  put  Arion  under 
close  confinement,  and  watched  anxiously  for  the  seamen :  that 
when  they  appeared,  he  summoned  them,  and  inquired  if  they 
could  give  any  account  of  Arion  ;  but  when  they  answered  that 
he  was  safe  in  Italy,  and  that  they  had  left  him  flourishing  at 
Tarentum,  Arion  in  that  instant  appeared  before  them  just  as 
he  v/as  when  he  leaped  into  the  sea ;  at  which  they  were  so 
astonished,  that  being  fully  convicted,  they  could  no  longer 
deny  the  fact.  These  things  are  reported  by  the  Corinthians 
and  Lesbians ;  and  there  is  a  small  brazen  statue  of  Arion  at 
Tcenarus,  representing  a  man  sitting  on  a  dolphin. 

Alyattes  died  when  he  had  reigned  fifty-seven  years.  After 
his  death  his  son  Croisus,  who  was  then  thirty-five  years  of  age, 
succeeded  to  the  kingdom.     He  attacked  the  Ephesians  before 


THE  STORY  OF   CKCESUS.  621 

any  oilier  Grecian  people,  and  afterward  tlie  several  cities  of 
the  lonians  and  ^Eolians  one  after  another,  alleging  different 
pretenses  against  different  states,  imputing  graver  charges 
against  those  in  whom  he  was  able  to  discover  greater  causes 
of  blame,  and  against  some  of  them  alleging  frivolous  pre- 
tenses. 

After  he  had  reduced  tlie  Grecians  in  Asia  to  the  payment 
of  tribute,  he  formed  a  design  to  build  ships  and  attack  the 
Islanders.  But  when  all  things  were  ready  for  the  building  of 
ships,  Bias  of  Priene  (or,  as  others  say,  Pittacus  of  Mitylene), 
arriving  at  Sardis,  put  a  stop  to  his  shipbuilding  by  making 
this  reply,  when  Croesus  inquired  if  he  had  any  news  from 
Greece :  '^  O  king,  the  Islanders  arc  enlisting  a  large  body  of 
cavalry,  with  intention  to  make  war  upon  you  and  Sardis." 

Croesus,  thinking  he  had  spoken  the  truth,  said  :  "  May  the 
gods  put  such  a  thought  into  the  Islanders  as  to  attack  the  sons 
of  the  Lydians  with  horse."  The  other,  answering,  said :  "Sire, 
you  appear  to  wish  above  all  things  to  see  the  Islanders  on 
horseback  upon  the  continent ;  and  not  v/ithout  reason.  But 
what  can  you  imagine  the  Islanders  more  earnestly  desire,  after 
having  heard  of  your  resolution  to  build  a  fleet  in  order  to 
attack  them,  than  to  catch  the  Lydians  at  sea,  that  they  may 
revenge  on  you  the  cause  of  those  Greeks  who  dwell  on  the 
continent,  v,'hom  you  hold  in  subjection  ?  "  Croesus  was  much 
pleased  with  the  retort,  put  a  stop  to  the  shipbuilding,  and 
made  an  alliance  with  the  lonians  that  inhabit  tlie  islands. 

In  course  of  time,  when  nearly  all  the  nations  that  dwell 
within  the  river  Ilalys,  except  the  Cilicians  and  Lycians,  were 
subdued,  and  Croesus  had  added  them  to  the  Lydians,  all  the 
other  wise  men  of  that  time,  as  each  had  opportunity,  came 
from  Greece  to  Sardis,  which  had  then  attained  to  the  high- 
est degree  of  prosperity  :  and  among  them  Solon,  an  Athenian, 
v.'ho,  having  made  laws  for  the  Athenians  at  their  request, 
absented  himself  for  ten  years,  having  sailed  away  under  pre- 
tense of  seeing  the  world,  that  he  might  not  be  compelled  to 
abrogate  any  of  the  laws  he  had  established ;  for  the  Athenians 
could  not  do  it  themselves,  since  they  were  bound  by  solemn 
oaths  to  observe  for  ten  years  whatever  laws  Solon  should 
enact  for  them. 

Solon  therefore,  having  gone  abroad  for  these  reasons,  and 
for  the  purposes  of  observation,  arrived  in  Egypt  at  the  court 
of  Amasis,  and  afterward  at  that  of  Croesus  at  Sardis.     On  his 


522  THE  STORY  OF  CRCESUS. 

arrival  he  was  hospitably  entertained  by  Croesus,  and  on  the 
third  or  fourth  day,  by  order  of  the  king,  the  attendants  con- 
ducted him  round  the  treasury,  and  showed  him  all  their  grand 
and  costly  contents;  and  when  he  had  seen  and  examined 
everything  sufficiently,  Croesus  asked  him  this  question  :  "  My 
Athenian  guest,  your  great  fame  has  reached  even  to  us,  as  well 
of  your  wisdom  as  of  your  travels,  how  that  as  a  philosopher  you 
have  traveled  through  various  countries  for  the  purpose  of 
observation ;  I  am  therefore  desirous  of  asking  you,  who  is  the 
most  happy  man  you  have  seen  ?  " 

He  asked  this  question,  because  he  thought  himself  the  most 
happy  of  men.  But  Solon,  speaking  the  truth  freely,  without 
any  flattery,  answered,  "  Tellus  the  Athenian." 

Crcesus,  astonished  at  his  answer,  eagerly  asked  him,  "  On 
what  account  do  you  deem  Tellus  the  happiest  ?  " 

He  replied :  "  Tellus,  in  the  first  place,  lived  in  a  well-gov- 
erned commonwealth  ;  had  sons  who  were  virtuous  and  good  ; 
and  he  saw  children  born  to  them  all,  and  all  surviving  :  in  the 
next  place,  when  he  had  lived  as  happily  as  the  condition  of 
human  affairs  will  permit,  he  ended  his  life  in  a  most  glorious 
manner ;  for,  coming  to  the  assistance  of  the  Athenians  in  a 
battle  with  their  neighbors  of  Eleusis,  he  put  the  enemy  to 
flight,  and  died  nobly.  The  Athenians  buried  him  at  the 
public  charge  in  the  place  where  he  fell,  and  honored  him 
greatly." 

When  Solon  had  roused  the  attention  of  Croesus  by  relating 
many  and  happy  circumstances  concerning  Tellus,  Croesus, 
expecting  at  least  to  obtain  the  second  place,  asked  whom  he 
had  seen  next  to  him.  "Cleobis,"  said  he,  "and  Biton ;  for 
they,  being  natives  of  Argos,  possessed  a  sufficient  fortune,  and 
had  withal  such  strength  of  body,  that  they  were  both  alike 
victorious  in  the  public  games.  Moreover,  the  following  story 
is  told  of  them  :  when  the  Argives  were  celebrating  a  festival 
of  Juno,  it  was  necessary  that  their  mother  should  be  drawn 
to  the  temple  in  a  chariot ;  but  the  oxen  did  not  come  from  the 
field  in  time :  the  young  men  therefore,  being  pressed  for  time, 
put  themselves  beneath  the  yoke,  and  drew  the  car  in  v/hich 
their  mother  sat;  and  having  conveyed  it  forty-five  stadia 
[eight  miles],  they  reached  the  temple.  After  they  had  done 
this  in  sight  of  the  assembled  people,  a  most  happy  termination 
was  put  to  their  lives ;  and  in  them  the  Deity  clearly  shov/ed 
that  it  is  better  for  a  man  to  die  than  to  live.     For  the  men  of 


THE  STORY  OF  CRCESUS.  523 

Argos,  who  stood  round,  commended  the  strength  of  the  youths, 
and  the  women  blessed  her  as  the  mother  of  such  sons  ;  but  the 
mother  herself,  transported  with  joy  both  on  account  of  the 
action  and  its  renown,  stood  before  the  image,  and  prayed  that 
the  goddess  would  grant  to  Cleobis  and  Biton,  her  own  sons, 
who  had  so  highly  honored  her,  the  greatest  blessing  man  could 
receive.  After  this  prayer,  when  they  liad  sacrificed  and  par- 
taken of  the  feast,  the  youths  fell  asleep  in  the  temple  itself, 
and  never  awoke  more,  but  met  with  such  a  termination  of  life. 
Upon  this  the  Argives,  in  commemoration  of  their  piety,  caused 
their  statues  to  be  made  and  dedicated  at  Delphi." 

Thus  Solon  adjudged  the  second  place  of  felicity  to  these 
youths.  But  Croesus,  being  enraged,  said :  "  My  Athenian 
friend,  is  my  happiness,  then,  so  slighted  by  you  as  nothing 
worth,  that  you  do  not  think  me  of  so  much  value  as  private 
men?" 

He  answered  :  "  Croesus,  do  you  inquire  of  me  concerning 
human  affairs — of  me,  who  know  that  the  Divinity  is  always 
jealous,  and  delights  in  confusion  ?  For  in  lapse  of  time  men 
are  constrained  to  see  many  things  they  would  not  willingly 
see,  and  to  suffer  many  things.  Now  I  put  the  term  of  man's 
life  at  seventy  years ;  these  seventy  years,  then,  give  twenty- 
five  thousand  two  hundred  days  [3G0  to  a  year],  without  includ- 
ing the  intercalary  month ;  and  if  we  add  that  month  to  every 
other  year,  in  order  that  the  seasons  arriving  at  the  proper  time 
may  agree,  the  intercalary  months  will  be  thirty-five  more  in 
the  seventy  years,  and  the  days  of  these  months  will  be  one 
thousand  and  fifty.  Yet  in  all  this  number  of  twenty-six  thou- 
sand two  hundred  and  fifty  days  that  compose  these  seventy 
years,  one  day  produces  nothing  exactly  the  same  as  another. 
Thus,  then,  Croesus,  man  is  altogether  the  sport  of  fortune. 
You  appear  to  me  to  be  master  of  immense  treasures,  and  king 
of  many  nations ;  but  as  relates  to  what  you  inquire  of  me,  I 
cannot  say  till  I  hear  you  have  ended  your  life  happily.  For 
the  richest  of  men  is  not  more  happy  than  he  that  has  a  suffi- 
ciency for  a  day,  unless  good  fortune  attend  him  to  the  grave, 
so  that  he  ends  his  life  in  happiness.  Many  men  who  abound 
in  wealth  are  unhappy ;  and  many  who  have  only  a  moderate 
competency,  are  fortunate.  He  that  abounds  in  wealth,  and 
is  yet  unhappy,  surpasses  the  other  only  in  two  things  ;  but 
the  other  surpasses  the  wealthy  and  the  miserable  in  many 
things.     The  former  indeed  is  better  able  to  gratify  desire,  and 


624  THE  STORY  OF  CRCESUS. 

to  bear  the  blow  of  adversity.  But  tlie  latter  surpasses  liim  in 
tills  :  lie  is  not  indeed  equally  able  to  bear  misfortune  or  satisf  v* 
desire,  but  his  good  fortune  ^yards  off  these  things  from  him  ; 
and  he  enjoys  the  full  use  of  his  limbs,  he  is  free  from  disease 
and  misfortune,  he  is  blessed  with  good  children  and  a  fine 
form,  and  if,  in  addition  to  all  these  things,  he  shall  end  his  life 
Vv'cll,  he  is  the  man  you  seek,  and  may  justly  be  called  happy: 
but  before  one  dies  we  ought  to  suspend  our  judgment,  and  not 
pronounce  him  happy,  but  fortunate.  Now  it  is  impossible  for 
any  one  man  to  comprehend  all  these  advantages :  as  no  one 
country  suffices  to  produce  everything  for  itself,  but  affords 
some  and  wants  others,  and  that  which  affords  the  most  is  the 
best ;  so  no  humPvU  being  is  in  all  respects  self-sufficient,  but 
possesses  one  advantage,  and  is  in  need  of  another :  he  there- 
fore who  has  constantly  enjoyed  the  most  of  these,  and  then 
ends  his  life  tranquilly,  this  man,  in  my  judgment,  O  king, 
deserves  the  name  of  happy.  We  ought  therefore  to  consider 
the  end  of  everything,  in  what  way  it  will  terminate ;  for  the 
Deity  having  shown  a  glimpse  of  happiness  to  many,  has  after- 
ward utterly  overthroAvn  them." 

When  he  spoke  thus  to  Croesus,  Crcesus  did  not  confer  any 
favor  on  him,  and  holding  him  in  no  account,  dismissed  him  ; 
since  he  considered  him  a  very  ignorant  man,  because  he  over- 
looked present  prosperity,  and  bade  men  look  to  the  end  of 
everything. 

After  the  departure  of  Solon,  the  indignation  of  the  gods  fell 
heavy  upon  Croesus,  probably  because  he  thought  liimself  the 
most  happy  of  all  men.  A  dream  soon  after  visited  him  while 
sleeping,  which  pointed  out  to  liim  the  truth  of  the  misfortunes 
that  were  about  to  befall  him  in  the  person  of  one  of  his  sons. 
For  Croesus  had  two  sons,  of  v*'hom  one  was  grievously  afflicted, 
for  he  was  a  mute  ;  but  the  other,  whose  name  was  Atys,  far 
surpassed  all  the  3'Oung  men  of  his  age.  Now  the  dream  inti- 
mated to  Croesus  that  he  vrould  lose  this  Atys  by  a  wound 
inflicted  by  the  point  of  an  iron  weapon  :  he,  when  he  awoke, 
and  had  considered  the  matter  with  himself,  dreading  the 
dream,  provided  a  wife  for  his  son  ;  and  though  he  was  accus- 
tomed to  command  the  Lydian  troops,  he  did  not  ever  after 
send  him  out  on  that  business  ;  and  causing  all  spears,  lances, 
and  such  other  weapons  as  men  use  in  war,  to  be  removed  from 
the  men's  apartments,  he  had  them  laid  up  in  private  chambers, 
that  none  of  them,  being  suspended,  might  fall  upon  his  son. 


THE  STORY  OF  CRCESUS.  525 

Wliilo  Croesus  was  engaged  with  liis  son's  nuptials,  a  man 
oppressed  by  misfortune  and  Avhose  hands  were  polluted,  a 
Phrygian  by  birth  and  of  royal  family,  arrived  at  Sardis.  This 
man,  having  como  to  the  palace  of  Croesus,  sought  permission 
to  obtain  purification  according  to  the  custom  of  the  country. 
Croesus  purified  him  (the  manner  of  expiation  is  nearly  the 
same  among  the  Lydians  and  the  Greeks);  and  when  he  had 
performed  the  usual  ceremonies,  inquired  whence  he  came,  and 
who  he  was  ;  speaking  to  him  as  follows  :  "  Stranger,  who  art 
thou,  and  from  what  part  of  Phrygia  hast  thou  come  as  a  sup- 
pliant to  my  hearth  ?  and  what  man  or  woman  hast  thou  slain?  " 

The  stranger  answered  :  "  Sire,  I  am  the  son  of  Gordius, 
son  of  IMidas,  and  am  called  Adrastus ;  having  unwittingly 
slain  my  own  brother,  and  being  banished  by  my  father  and 
deprived  of  everything,  I  am  come  hither." 

Croesus  answered  as  follov/s  :  "  You  are  born  of  parents 
who  are  our  friends,  and  you  are  come  to  friends  among  whom, 
if  you  will  stay,  you  shall  want  nothing  ;  and  by  bearing  your 
misfortune  as  lightly  as  possible,  you  will  be  the  greatest 
gainer."  So  Adrastus  took  up  his  abode  in  the  palace  of 
Croesus. 

At  this  same  time  a  boar  of  enormous  size  appeared  in 
Mysian  Olympus,  and  rushing  dovrn  from  that  mountain,  rav- 
aged the  fields  of  the  Mysians.  The  Mysians,  though  they 
often  went  out  against  him,  could  not  hurt  him,  but  suffered 
much  from  him.  At  last  deputies  from  the  Mysians  having 
come  to  Croesus,  spoke  as  follows  :  "  O  king,  a  boar  of  enor- 
mous size  has  appeared  in  our  country,  and  ravages  our  fields  : 
though  we  have  often  endeavored  to  take  him,  we  cannot.  We 
therefore  earnestly  beg  that  you  would  send  with  us  your  son, 
and  some  chosen  youths  with  dogs,  that  we  may  drive  him 
from  the  country." 

Such  v/as  their  entreaty  ;  but  Croesus,  remembering  the 
warning  of  his  dream,  answered  :  "  Make  no  further  mention 
of  my  son  ;  for  I  shall  not  send  him  with  you,  because  he  is 
lately  married,  and  that  now  occupies  his  attention :  but  I  will 
send  with  3'ou  chosen  Lydians,  and  the  whole  hunting  train, 
and  will  order  them  to  assist  you  with  their  best  endeavors  in 
driving  the  monster  from  your  country." 

Such  was  his  answer  ;  and  when  the  Mysians  v/ere  content 
with  this,  the  son  of  Croesus,  who  had  heard  of  their  request, 
came  in ;  and  when  Croesus  refused  to  send  him  with  them, 


626  THE  STORY  OF  CRCESUS. 

tlie  youtli  thus  addressed  him  :  "  Father,  in  time  past  I  was 
permitted  to  signalize  myself  in  the  two  most  noble  and  becom- 
ing exercises  of  wai^  and  hunting  ;  but  now  you  keep  me 
excluded  from  both,  without  having  observed  in  me  eitlier 
cowardice  or  want  of  spirit.  How  will  men  look  on  me  when 
I  oro  or  return  from  the  forum  ?  What  kind  of  man  shall  I 
appear  to  my  fellow-citizens  ?  What  to  my  newly  married 
wife  ?  What  kind  of  man  will  she  think  she  has  for  a  partner  ? 
Either  suffer  me,  then,  to  go  to  this  hunt,  or  convince  me  that 
it  is  better  for  me  to  do  as  you  would  have  me." 

"My  son,"  answered  Croesus,  "I  act  thus,  not  because  I 
have  seen  any  cowardice,  or  anything  else  unbecoming  in  you  ; 
but  a  vision  in  a  dream  appearing  to  me  in  my  sleep  warned 
me  that  you  would  be  short-lived,  and  would  die  by  the  point 
of  an  iron  weapon.  On  account  of  this  vision,  therefore,  I 
hastened  your  marriage,  and  now  refuse  to  send  you  on  this 
expedition  ;  taking  care  to  preserve  you,  if  by  any  means  I 
can,  as  long  as  I  live  :  for  you  are  my  only  son  ;  the  other, 
who  is  deprived  of  his  hearing,  I  consider  as  lost." 

The  youth  answered  :  "  You  are  not  to  blame,  my  father, 
if  after  such  a  dream  you  take  so  much  care  of  me  ;  but  it  is 
right  for  me  to  explain  that  which  you  do  not  comprehend,  and 
which  has  escaped  your  notice  in  the  dream.  You  say  the 
dream  signified  that  I  should  die  by  the  point  of  an  iron 
weapon.  But  what  hand  or  what  pointed  iron  weapon  has  a 
boar,  to  occasion  such  fears  in  you  ?  Had  it  said  I  should  lose 
my  life  by  a  tusk,  or  something  of  like  nature,  you  ought  then 
to  have  done  as  you  now  do  ;  whereas  it  said  by  the  point  of 
a  weapon  :  since,  then,  we  have  not  to  contend  against  men, 
let  me  go." 

"  You  have  surpassed  me,"  replied  Croesus,  "  in  explaining 
the  import  of  the  dream  ;  therefore,  being  overcome  by  you, 
I  change  my  resolution,  and  permit  you  to  go  to  the  chase." 

Croesus,  having  thus  spoken,  sent  for  the  Phrygian  Adras- 
tus,  and,  when  he  came,  addressed  him  as  follows  :  "Adrastus, 
I  purified  you  when  smitten  by  a  grievous  misfortune,  which 
I  do  not  upbraid  you  with,  and  have  received  you  into  my 
house,  and  supplied  j^ou  with  everything  necessary.  Now, 
therefore  (for  it  is  your  duty  to  requite  me  with  kindness, 
since  I  have  first  conferred  a  kindness  on  you),  I  beg  you 
would  be  my  son's  guardian,  when  he  goes  to  the  chase,  and 
take  care  that  no  skulking  villains  show  themselves  in  the  way 


THE  STORY  OF  CRCESUS.  627 

to  do  him  liarm.  Besides,  you  ought  to  go  for  your  own  sake, 
where  you  may  signalize  yourself  by  your  exploits ;  for  this 
was  the  glory  of  your  ancestors,  and  you  are,  besides,  in  full 
vigor." 

Adrastus  answered  :  "  On  no  other  account,  sire,  would  I 
have  taken  part  in  this  enterprise  ;  for  it  is  not  fitting  tliat  one 
in  my  unfortunate  circumstances  should  join  with  his  pros- 
perous compeers,  nor  do  I  desire  to  do  so  ;  and  indeed  I  have 
often  restrained  myself.  Nov/,  however,  since  you  urge  me, 
and  I  ought  to  oblige  you  (for  I  am  bound  to  requite  the  bene- 
fits you  have  conferred  on  me),  I  am  ready  to  do  as  you  desire  ; 
and  rest  assured  that  your  son,  whom  you  bid  me  take  care 
of,  shall,  as  far  as  his  guardian  is  concerned,  return  to  you 
uninjured." 

When  Adrastus  had  made  this  answer  to  Croesus,  they  v.^ent 
av,-ay,  well  provided  with  chosen  youths  and  dogs  ;  and  having 
arrived  at  JNIount  Olympus,  they  sought  the  wild  beast,  and 
having  found  him  and  encircled  him  around,  they  hurled  their 
javelins  at  him.  Among  the  rest,  the  stranger,  the  same  that 
had  been  purified  of  murder,  named  Adrastus,  throwing  his 
javelin  at  the  boar,  missed  him,  and  struck  the  son  of  Croesus  ; 
thus  he,  being  pierced  by  the  point  of  the  lance,  fulfilled  the 
warning  of  the  dream.  Upon  this,  some  one  ran  off  to  tell 
Croesus  what  had  happened,  and  having  arrived  at  Sardis, 
gave  him  an  account  of  the  action,  and  of  his  son's  fate. 

Croesus,  exceedingly  distressed  by  the  death  of  his  son, 
lamented  it  the  more  bitterly  because  he  fell  by  the  hand  of 
one  whom  he  himself  had  purified  from  blood  ;  and  vehemently 
deploring  his  misfortune,  he  invoked  Jove  the  Expiator,  attest- 
ing what  he  had  suffered  by  this  stranger.  He  invoked  also 
the  same  deity,  by  the  name  of  the  god  of  hospitality  and 
private  friendship  :  as  the  god  of  hospitality,  because,  by  re- 
ceiving a  stranger  into  his  house,  he  had  unawares  fostered  the 
murderer  of  his  son  ;  as  the  god  of  private  friendship,  because, 
having  sent  him  as  a  guardian,  he  found  him  his  greatest  enemy. 
After  this,  the  Lydians  approached,  bearing  the  corpse,  and 
behind  it  followed  the  slayer.  He,  having  advanced  in  front 
of  the  corpse,  delivered  himself  up  to  Croesus,  stretching  fortli 
liis  hands  and  begging  of  him  to  kill  him  upon  it ;  then  relat- 
ing his  former  misfortune,  and  how,  in  addition  to  that,  he  had 
destroyed  his  purifier,  and  that  he  ought  to  live  no  longer. 
When  Croesus  heard  this,  though  his  own  affliction  was  so 


5fJ8  THE   STORY   OF   CRCESL'S. 

great,  liG  pitied  Adrastus,  and  said  to  liim  :  "  You  have  made 
me  full  satisfaction  by  condemning-  yourself  to  die.  But  you 
are  not  the  author  of  this  misfortune,  except  as  far  as  you  were 
the  involuntary  agent,  but  that  god,  whoever  he  was,  that 
long  since  foreshadowed  what  was  about  to  happen." 

Croesus  therefore  buried  his  son  as  the  dignity  of  his  birth 
required  ;  but  Adrastus,  son  of  Gordius,  son  of  Midas,  who  had 
been  the  slayer  of  his  own  brother,  and  the  slayer  of  his  purifier, 
when  all  was  silent  round  the  tomb,  judging  himself  the  most 
heavily  afllicted  of  all  men,  killed  himself  on  the  tomb.  But 
Crcesus,  bereaved  of  his  son,  continued  disconsolate  for  two 
years. 

Some  time  after,  the  overthrow  of  the  kingdom  of  Astyagcs 
son  of  Cyaxares,  by  Cyrus  son  of  Cambyses,  and  the  growing 
power  of  the  Persians,  put  an  end  to  the  grief  of  Croesus  ;  and 
it  entered  into  his  thoughts  whether  he  could  by  any  means 
check  the  growing  power  of  the  Persians  before  they  became 
formidable.  After  he  had  formed  this  purpose,  he  determined 
to  make  trial  as  well  of  the  oracles  in  Greece  as  of  that 
in  Libya  ;  and  sent  different  persons  to  different  places,  with 
the  following  orders :  that,  computing  the  days  from  the 
time  of  their  departure  from  Sardis,  they  should  consult  the 
oracles  on  the  hundredth  day,  by  asking  what  Croesus,  son  of 
Alyattes  and  king  of  the  Lydians,  was  then  doing ;  and  that 
they  should  bring  him  the  answer  of  each  oracle  in  writing. 
Now,  what  were  the  answers  given  by  the  other  oracles  is 
mentioned  by  none  ;  but  no  sooner  had  the  Lydians  entered 
the  temple  of  Delphi  to  consult  the  god,  and  asked  tlie  question 
enjoined  them,  than  the  Pythian  thus  spoke  in  hexameter  verse  : 
"  I  know  the  number  of  the  sands,  and  the  measure  of  the  soa  ; 
I  understand  the  dumb,  and  hear  him  that  does  not  speak  ;  the 
savor  of  the  hard-shelled  tortoise  boiled  in  brass  with  the  flesh 
of  lamb  strikes  on  my  senses  ;  brass  is  laid  beneath  it,  and  brass 
is  put  over  it." 

The  Lydians,  having  written  down  this  answer  of  the 
Pythian,  returned  to  Sardis.  And  when  the  rest,  who  had 
been  sent  to  other  places,  arrived  bringing  the  answers, 
Croesus,  having  opened  each  of  them,  examined  their  con- 
tents ;  but  none  of  them  pleased  him.  When,  however,  he 
heard  that  from  Delphi,  he  immediately  adored  it  and  aj)- 
proved  of  it,  being  convinced  that  the  oracle  at  Delphi  alono 
vras  a  real  oracle,  because  it  had  discovered  v/hat  he  had  done. 


THE  STORY  OF  CKCESUS.  529 

For  when  he  had  sent  persons  to  consult  tlie  different  oracles, 
watching  the  appointed  day,  he  had  recourse  to  the  following 
contrivance  :  having  thought  of  what  it  was  impossible  to  dis- 
itover  or  guess  at,  he  cut  up  a  tortoise  and  a  lamb,  and  boiled 
them  liimself  together  in  a  brazen  caldron,  and  put  on  it  a 
cover  of  brass. 

Such,  then,  was  the  answer  given  to  Croesus  from  Delphi : 
as  regards  the  answer  of  the  oracle  of  Amphiaraus,  I  cannot 
pay  what  answer  it  gave  to  the  Lydians,  who  performed  the 
accustomed  rites  at  the  temple  ;  for  nothing  else  is  related 
than  that  he  considered  this  also  to  be  a  true  oracle. 

After  this  he  endeavored  to  propitiate  the  god  at  Delphi  by 
magnificent  sacrifices  ;  for  he  offered  three  thousand  head  of 
cattle  of  every  kind  fit  for  sacrifice,  and  having  heaped  up  a 
great  pile,  he  burned  on  it  beds  of  gold  and  silver,  vials  of 
gold,  and  robes  of  purple  and  garments,  hoping  by  that  means 
more  completely  to  conciliate  the  god  ;  he  also  ordered  all  the 
Lydians  to  offer  to  the  god  whatever  he  Avas  able.  When  the 
sacrifice  was  ended,  having  melted  down  a  vast  quantity  of  gold, 
lie  cast  half-bricks  from  it ;  of  which  the  longest  were  six  palms 
in  length,  the  shortest  three,  and  in  thickness  one  palm  :  their 
number  was  one  hundred  and  seventeen :  four  of  these,  of  pure 
gold,  weighed  each  two  talents  and  a  half ;  the  other  half-bricks 
of  pale  gold  weighed  two  talents  each.  He  made  also  the  figure 
of  a  lion  of  fine  gold,  weighing  ten  talents. 

Croesus,  having  finished  these  things,  sent  them  to  Delphi, 
and  with  them  two  large  boAvls,  one  of  gold,  the  other  of  silver, 
and  four  casks  of  silver  ;  and  he  dedicated  two  lustral  vases,  one 
of  gold,  the  other  of  silver  ;  at  the  same  time  he  sent  many  other 
offerings :  among  them  some  round  silver  covers ;  and  more- 
over, a  statue  of  a  woman  in  gold  three  cubits  high,  wliich  the 
Delphians  say  is  the  image  of  Croesus'  baking  woman  ;  and  to 
all  these  things  he  added  the  necklaces  and  girdles  of  his  wife. 

These  were  the  offerings  he  sent  to  Delphi  ;  and  to  Amphia- 
raus, having  ascertained  his  virtue  and  sufferings,  he  dedicated 
a  shield  all  of  gold,  and  a  lance  of  solid  gold,  tlie  shaft  as  well 
as  the  points  being  of  gold  ;  and  these  are  at  Thebes,  in  the 
temple  of  Ismenian  Apollo. 

To  the  Lydians  appointed  to  convey  these  presents  to  the 

temples,  Croesus   gave  it  in  charge  to  inquire  of  the   oracles 

whether  he  should  make  war  on  the  Persians,  and  if  he  should 

unite   any  other   nation   as    an   ally.     Accordingly,  when  the 

i 


530  THE  STORY  OF  CRCESUS. 

Lydians  arrived  at  the  places  to  wliich  they  v/ere  sent,  and  had 
dedicated  the  offerings,  they  consulted  the  oracles,  saying : 
"  Cnjesus,  king  of  the  Lydians  and  of  other  nations,  esteem- 
ing these  to  be  the  only  oracles  among  men,  sends  these  presents 
in  acknowledgment  of  your  discoveries ;  and  now  asks  whether 
lie  should  lead  an  army  against  the  Persians,  and  whether  he 
should  join  any  auxiliary  forces  with  his  own."  Such  were 
their  questions  :  and  the  opinions  of  both  oracles  concurred, 
foretelling  "  that  if  Croesus  should  make  war  on  the  Persians, 
iie  would  destroy  a  mighty  empire;"  and  they  advised  him  to 
engage  the  most  powerful  of  the  Grecians  in  his  alliance. 

When  Croesus  heard  the  answers  that  were  brought  back, 
he  was  beyond  measure  delighted  with  the  oracles  ;  and  fully 
expecting  that  he  should  destroy  the  kingdom  of  Cyrus,  he 
again  sent  to  Delphi,  and  having  ascertained  the  number  of  the 
inhabitants,  presented  each  of  them  with  two  staters  of  gold. 
In  return  for  this,  the  Delphians  gave  Croesus  and  the  Lydians 
the  right  to  consult  the  oracle  before  any  others,  and  exemption 
from  tribute,  and  the  first  seats  in  the  temple,  and  the  privilege 
of  being  made  citizens  of  Delphi  to  as  many  as  should  desire  it 
in  all  future  time. 

Croesus,  having  made  these  presents  to  the  Delphians,  sent 
a  third  time  to  consult  the  oracle  ;  for  after  he  had  ascertained 
the  veracity  of  the  oracle,  he  had  frequent  recourse  to  it.  His 
demand  now  was,  whether  he  should  long  enjoy  the  kingdom  ? 
to  which  the  Pythian  gave  this  answer  :  "  When  a  mule  shall 
become  king  of  the  Medes,  then,  tenderfooted  Lydian,  flee  over 
pebbly  Hermus,  nor  tarry,  nor  blush  to  be  a  coward." 

With  this  answer,  when  reported  to  him,  Croesus  was  more 
than  ever  delighted,  thinking  that  a  mule  should  never  be  king 
of  the  Medes  instead  of  a  man,  and  consequently  that  neither 
he  nor  his  posterity  should  ever  be  deprived  of  the  kingdom. 
In  the  next  place,  he  began  to  inquire  carefully  who  were  the 
most  powerful  of  the  Greeks  whom  he  might  gain  over  as 
allies  ;  and  on  inquiry,  found  that  the  Lacedaemonians  and 
Athenians  excelled  the  rest,  the  former  being  of  Dorian,  the 
latter  of  Ionic  descent ;  for  these  were  in  ancient  time  the 
most  distinguished,  the  latter  being  a  Pelasgian,  the  other  an 
Hellenic  nation. 

Croesus  then  prepared  to  invade  Cappadocia,  hoping  to  over- 
throw Cyrus  and  the  power  of  the  Persians.     While  Cra^sus 


THE  STORY   OF  CRCESUS.  531 

was  preparing  for  his  expedition  against  the  Persians,  a  certain 
Lydian,  who  before  that  time  was  esteemed  a  wise  man,  and  on 
this  occasion  acquired  a  very  great  name  in  Lydia,  gave  him 
advice  in  these  words  (the  name  of  this  person  was  Sandanis)  : 
"  O  king,  you  are  preparing  to  make  war  against  a  people  who 
wear  leather  trousers,  and  the  rest  of  their  garments  of  leather  ; 
who  inhabit  a  barren  country,  and  feed  not  on  such  things  as 
they  choose,  but  such  as  they  can  get.  Besides,  they  do  not 
habitually  use  wine,  but  drink  water  ;  nor  have  they  figs  to 
eat,  nor  anything  that  is  good.  In  the  first  place,  then,  if  you 
should  conquer,  what  will  you  take  from  them,  since  they  have 
nothing?  On  the  other  hand,  if  you  should  be  conquered, 
consider  what  good  things  you  will  lose  ;  for  when  they  have 
tasted  of  our  good  things,  they  will  become  fond  of  them,  nor 
will  they  be  driven  from  them.  As  for  me,  I  thank  the  gods 
that  they  have  not  put  it  into  the  thoughts  of  the  Persians  to 
make  war  on  the  Lydians."  In  saying  this,  he  did  not  persuade 
Croesus. 

Croesus  invaded  Cappadocia  for  the  following  reasons  :  as 
well  from  a  desire  of  adding  it  to  his  own  dominions,  as,  espe- 
cially, from  his  confidence  in  the  oracle,  and  a  wish  to  punish 
Cyrus  on  account  of  Astyages  ;  for  Cyrus  son  of  Cambyses 
had  subjugated  Astyages  sen  of  Cyaxares,  who  was  brother-in- 
law  of  Croesus  and  king  of  the  Medes.  He  had  become  brother- 
in-law  to  Croesus  in  the  following  manner  :  — 

A  band  of  Scythian  nomads  having  risen  in  rebellion,  with- 
drew into  Media.  At  that  time  Cyaxares  son  of  Phraortes, 
grandson  of  Deioces,  ruled  over  the  Medes  ;  he  at  first  received 
these  Scythians  kindly,  as  being  suppliants  ;  so  much  so  that, 
esteeming  them  very  highly,  he  intrusted  some  youths  to  them 
to  learn  their  language  and  the  use  of  the  bow.  In  course  of 
time,  it  happened  that  these  Scythians,  who  were  constantly 
going  out  to  hunt,  and  who  always  brought  home  something, 
on  one  occasion  took  nothing.  On  their  returning  empty- 
handed,  Cyaxares  (for  he  was,  as  he  proved,  of  a  violent  temper) 
treated  them  with  most  opprobrious  language.  The  Scyth- 
ians, having  met  with  this  treatment  from  Cyaxares,  and  con- 
sidering it  undeserved  by  them,  determined  to  kill  one  of  the 
youths  that  were  being  educated  under  their  care  ;  and  having 
prepared  the  flesh  as  they  used  to  dress  the  beasts  taken  in 
hunting,  to  serve  it  up  to  Cyaxares  as  if  it  were  game,  and  then 
to  make  their  escape  immediately  to  Alyattes  son  of  Sadyattes, 


632  THE  STORY  OF  CRCESUS. 

at  Sardis.  This  was  accordingly  done,  and  Cyaxares  and  his 
guests  tasted  of  this  flesh  ;  and  the  Scythians,  having  done 
this,  became  suppliants  to  Alyattes. 

After  this  (for  Alyattes  refused  to  deliver  up  the  Scythians 
to  Cyaxares  when  he  demanded  them),  war  lasted  between  the 
Lydians  and  the  Medes  for  five  years  ;  during  this  period  the 
Medes  often  defeated  the  Lydians,  and  often  the  Lydians 
defeated  the  Medes  ;  and  during  this  time  they  had  a  kind 
of  nocturnal  engagement.  In  the  sixth  year,  when  they  were 
carrying  on  the  war  with  nearly  equal  success,  on  occasion  of 
an  engagement,  it  happened  that  in  the  heat  of  the  battle  day 
was  suddenly  turned  into  night.  This  change  of  the  day  Thales 
the  Milesian  had  foretold  to  the  lonians,  fixing  beforehand  this 
year  as  the  very  period  in.  which  the  change  actually  took  place. 
The  Lydians  and  Medes  seeing  night  succeeding  in  the  place 
of  day,  desisted  from  fighting,  and  both  showed  a  great  anxiety 
to  make  peace.  Syennesis  the  Cilician,  and  Labynetus  the 
Babylonian,  were  the  mediators  of  their  reconciliation  :  these 
were  they  who  hastened  the  treaty  between  them,  and  made  a 
matrimonial  connection  ;  for  they  persuaded  Alyattes  to  give 
his  daughter  Aryenis  in  marriage  to  Astyages  son  of  Cyaxares  : 
for  without  strong  necessity,  agreements  are  not  wont  to  remain 
firm.  These  nations  in  their  federal  contracts  observe  the  same 
ceremonies  as  the  Greeks  ;  and  in  addition,  when  they  have 
cut  their  arms  to  the  outer  skin,  they  lick  up  one  another's 
blood. 

Cyrus  had  subdued  this  same  Astyages,  his  grandfather  by 
the  mother's  side,  for  reasons  which  I  shall  hereafter  relate. 
Crcesus,  alleging  this  against  him,  sent  to  consult  the  oracle  if 
he  should  make  war  on  the  Persians ;  and  when  an  ambiguous 
answer  came  back,  he,  interpreting  it  to  his  own  advantage, 
led  his  army  against  the  territory  of  the  Persians.  When  he 
arrived  at  the  river  Halys,  Crcesus  transported  his  forces,  as  I 
believe,  by  the  bridges  which  are  now  there.  But  the  common 
opinion  of  the  Grecians  is,  that  Thales  the  Milesian  procured 
him  a  passage ;  for,  while  Croesus  was  in  doubt  how  his  army 
should  pass  over  the  river  (for  they  saj'  that  these  bridges  were 
not  at  that  time  in  existence),  Thales,  who  was  in  the  camp, 
caused  the  stream,  which  flowed  along  the  left  of  the  army,  to 
flow  likewise  on  the  right ;  and  he  contrived  it  thus  :  having 
begun  above  the  camp,  he  dug  a  deep  trench,  in  the  shape  of  a 
half-moon,  so  that  the  river,  being  turned  into  this  from  its  old 


HERODOTUS 


THE  STORY  OF  CRCESUS.  533 

channel,  might  pass  in  the  rear  of  the  camp  pitched  -where  it 
then  was,  and  afterward,  liaving  passed  hy  the  camp,  might 
fall  into  its  former  course  ;  so  that  as  soon  as  the  river  was 
divided  into  two  streams,  it  became  fordable  in  both.  Some 
say  that  the  ancient  channel  of  the  river  was  entirely  dried 
up  :  but  this  I  cannot  assent  to  ;  for  how  then  could  they  have 
crossed  it  on  their  return  ? 

However,  Croesus,  having  passed  the  river  with  his  army, 
came  to  a  place  called  Pteria,  in  Cappadocia.  (Now  Pteria  is 
the  strongest  position  of  the  whole  of  this  country,  and  is  situ- 
ated over  against  Sinope,  a  city  on  the  Euxine  Sea.)  Here  he 
encamped,  and  ravaged  the  lands  of  the  Syrians,  and  took  the 
city  of  the  Pterians,  and  enslaved  the  inhabitants ;  he  also  took 
all  the  adjacent  places,  and  expelled  the  inhabitants,  who  had 
given  him  no  cause  for  blame.  But  Cyrus,  liaving  assembled 
his  own  army,  and  having  taken  with  him  all  who  inhabited 
the  intermediate  country,  went  to  meet  Croesus.  But  before 
he  began  to  advance,  he  sent  heralds  to  the  lonians,  to  persuade 
them  to  revolt  from  Crcesus :  the  lonians,  however,  refused. 
When  Cyrus  had  come  up  and  encamped  opposite  Croesus,  they 
made  trial  of  each  other's  strength  on  the  plains  of  Pteria ;  but 
when  an  obstinate  battle  took  place,  and  many  fell  on  both 
sides,  they  at  last  parted  on  the  approach  of  night,  neither 
having-  been  victorious.  In  this  manner  did  the  two  armies 
engage. 

But  Croesus  laying  the  blame  on  his  own  army  on  account 
of  the  smallness  of  its  numbers,  for  his  forces  that  engaged  were 
far  fewer  than  those  of  Cyrus  —  laying  the  blame  on  this,  when 
on  the  following  day  Cyrus  did  not  attempt  to  attack  him,  he 
marched  back  to  Sardis,  designing  to  summon  the  Egyptians 
according  to  treaty,  for  he  had  made  an  alliance  with  Amasis, 
king  of  Egypt,  before  he  had  with  the  Lacedaemonians ;  and  to 
send  for  the  Babylonians  (for  he  had  made  an  alliance  with 
them  also,  and  Labynetus  at  this  time  reigned  over  the  Baby- 
lonians), and  to  require  the  presence  of  the  Lacedaemonians  at 
a  fixed  time :  having  collected  these  together,  and  assembled 
his  own  army,  he  purposed,  when  winter  was  over,  to  attack 
the  Persians  in  the  beginning  of  the  spring.  With  this  design, 
when  he  reached  Sardis,  he  dispatched  ambassadors  to  his  dif- 
ferent allies,  requiring  them  to  meet  at  Sardis  before  the  end 
of  five  months  ;  but  the  army  that  was  with  him,  and  that  liad 
fought  with  the  Persians,  which  wa^  composed  of  mercenary 


534  THE  STORY  OF  CRCESUS. 

troops,  he  entirely  disl)nii(led,  not  imagining  that  Cyrus,  who 
had  come  off  on  such  equal  terms,  would  venture  to  advance 
upon  Sardis. 

While  Croesus  was  forming  these  plans,  the  whole  suburbs 
were  filled  with  serpents ;  and  when  they  appeared,  the  horses, 
forsaking  their  pastures,  came  and  devoured  them.  When 
Croesus  beheld  this,  he  considered  it  to  be,  as  it  really  was,  a 
prodigy,  and  sent  immediately  to  consult  the  interpreters  at 
Telmessus :  but  the  messengers  having  arrived  there,  and 
learned  from  the  Telmessians  what  the  prodigy  portended, 
were  unr.blc  to  report  it  to  Croesus ;  for  before  they  sailed  back 
to  Sardis,  Croesus  had  been  taken  prisoner.  The  Telmessians 
]iad  pronounced  as  follows :  "  That  Crcesus  must  expect  a 
foreign  army  to  invade  his  country,  which,  on  its  arrival, 
would  subdue  the  natives ;  because,  they  said,  the  serpent  is  a 
son  of  the  earth,  but  the  horse  is  an  enemy  and  a  stranger." 
This  answer  the  Telmessians  gave  to  Croesus  when  he  had  been 
already  taken,  yet  without  knowing  what  had  happened  v/ith 
respect  to  Sardis  or  Croesus  himself. 

But  Cyrus,  as  soon  us  Croesus  had  retreated  after  the  battle 
at  Pteria,  having  discovered  that  it  was  the  intention  of  Croesus 
to  disband  his  army,  found,  upon  deliberation,  that  it  would 
be  to  his  advantage  to  march  with  all  possible  expedition  on 
Sardis,  before  the  forces  of  the  Lydians  cculd  be  a  second  time 
assembled ;  and  when  he  had  thus  determined,  he  put  his  plan 
into  practice  v/ith  all  possible  expedition ;  for  having  marched 
his  army  into  Lydia,  he  brought  this  news  of  his  own  enter- 
prise to  Croesus.  Thereupon  Croesus,  being  thrown  into  great 
perplexity,  seeing  that  matters  had  turned  out  contrary  to  his 
expectations,  nevertheless  drew  out  the  Lydians  to  battle  ;  and 
at  that  time  no  nation  in  Asia  was  more  valiant  and  warlike 
than  the  Lydians.  Their  mode  of  fighting  was  from  on  horse- 
back ;  they  were  armed  with  long  lances,  and  managed  their 
horses  with  admirable  address. 

Cyrus,  alarmed  at  the  cavalry,  had  recourse  to  the  follovv^ing 
stratagem:  having  collected  together  all  the  camels  that  followed 
his  army  with  provisions  and  baggage,  and  caused  their  burdens 
to  be  taken  off,  he  mounted  men  upon  them  equipped  in  cavalry 
accouterments  ;  and  having  furnished  them,  he  ordered  them  to 
go  in  advance  of  the  rest  of  his  army  against  the  Lydian  horse, 
commanded  his  infantry  to  follow  the  camels,  and  placed  the 
whole  of  his  cavalry  behind  the  infantry.     When  all  were  drawn 


THE  STORY  OF  CRCESUS.  635 

np  in  order,  he  cliarged  tliem  not  to  spare  any  of  tlie  Lydians, 
l)ut  to  kill  every  one  they  met;  but  on  no  account  to  kill 
Croesus,  even  if  he  should  offer  resistance  when  taken.  He 
drevt'  up  the  camels  in  the  front  of  the  cavalry  for  this  reason: 
a  horse  is  afraid  of  a  camel,  and  cannot  endure  either  to  see  its 
form  or  to  scent  its  smell.  Accordingly,  when  they  joined 
battle,  the  horses  no  sooner  smelt  the  camels  and  saw  them, 
than  they  wheeled  round,  and  the  hopes  of  Croesus  were  de- 
stroyed. Nevertheless,  the  Lydians  were  not  therefore  dis- 
couraged, but  when  they  perceived  what  had  happened,  leaped 
from  their  horses  and  engaged  with  the  Persians  on  foot;  at 
last,  when  many  had  fallen  on  both  sides,  the  Lydians  were  put 
to  flight,  and  being  shut  up  within  the  walls,  were  besieged  by 
the  Persians. 

On  the  fourteenth  day  after  Croesus  had  been  besieged, 
Cyrus  sent  horsemen  throughout  his  army,  and  proclaimed  that 
he  would  liberally  reward  the  man  who  should  first  mount  the 
wall :  upon  this,  several  attempts  were  made,  and  as  often  failed ; 
till,  after  the  rest  had  desisted,  a  Mardian,  whose  name  was 
Hyrceades,  endeavored  to  climb  up  on  that  part  of  the  citadel 
where  no  guard  was  stationed.,  because  there  did.  not  appear  to 
be  any  danger  that  it  would  be  taken  on  that  part,  for  on  that 
side  the  citadel  was  precipitous  and  impracticable.  This  is  the 
quarter  of  the  city  that  faces  Mount  Tmolus.  Now  this  Hyrce- 
ades the  Mardian,  having  seen  a  Lydian  come  down  this  preci- 
pice the  day  before  for  a  helmet  that  was  rolled  down,  and  carry 
it  up  again,  noticed  it  carefully,  and  reflected  on  it  in  his  mind  : 
he  thereupon  ascended  the  same  v/ay,  followed  by  divers  Per- 
sians; and  when  great  numbers  had  gone  up,  Sardis  was  thus 
taken,  and  the  whole  town  plundered. 

The  following  incidents  befell  Crcesus  himself.  He  had  a 
son,  of  whom  I  have  before  made  mention,  who  was  in  other 
respects  proper  enough,  but  dumb.  Nov/,  in  the  time  of  his 
former  prosperity,  Croesus  had  dene  everj^thing  he  could  for 
him,  and  among  other  expedient?  had  sent  to  consult  the  oracle 
of  Delphi  concerning  him ;  but  th-  Pythian  gave  him  this 
answer :  "  O  Lydian  born,  king  of  many,  very  foolish  Croesus, 
wish  not  to  hear  the  longed-f'^r  voice  of  thy  son  speaking  within 
thy  palace :  it  were  better  for  thee  that  this  should  be  far  off ; 
for  he  will  first  speak  in  an  unhappy  day." 

When  the  city  was  taken,  one  of  the  Persians,  not  knowing 
Croesus,  was  about  to  kill  him.     Croesus,  though  he  saw  him 


536  THE  STOKY  OF  CRCESUS. 

approach,  from  liis  present  misfortune  took  no  heed  of  him,  nor 
did  he  care  about  dying  by  the  blow ;  but  this  speechless  sou 
of  his,  when  he  saw  the  Persian  advancing  against  him,  throuo-U 
dread  and  anguish  burst  into  speech,  and  said,  "  Man,  kill  not 
Croesus."  These  were  the  first  words  he  ever  uttered ;  but  from 
that  time  he  continued  to  speak  during  the  remainder  of  his 
Hfe. 

So  the  Persians  got  i^ossession  of  Sardis,  and  made  Crcesus 
prisoner,  after  ho  had  reigned  fourteen  years,  been  besieged 
fourteen  days,  and  lost  his  great  empire,  as  the  oracle  had  pre- 
dicted. The  Persians,  having  taken  him,  conducted  him  to 
Cyrus ;  and  he,  having  heaped  up  a  great  pile,  placed  Croesus 
upon  it,  bound  with  fetters,  and  with  him  fourteen  young 
Lydians,  designing  either  to  offer  this  sacrifice  to  some  god  as 
the  first  fruits  of  his  victory,  or  wishing  to  perform  a  vow;  or 
perhaps,  having  heard  that  Croesus  was  a  religious  person,  ho 
placed  him  on  the  pile  for  the  purpose  of  discovering  whether 
any  deity  would  save  him  from  being  burned  alive.  When 
Crcesus  stood  upon  the  pile,  notwithstanding  the  weight  of  his 
misfortunes,  the  words  of  Solon  recurred  to  him,  as  spoken  by 
inspiration  of  the  Deity,  that  "  no  living  man  could  be  justly 
called  happy."  When  this  occurred  to  him,  after  a  long  silenj© 
he  recovered  himself,  and  uttering  a  groan,  thrice  pronounced 
the  name  of  Solon.  When  Cyrus  heard  him,  he  commanded 
his  interpreters  to  ask  Croesus  whom  it  was  he  called  upon : 
they  drew  near  and  asked  him,  but  Croesus  for  some  time  kept 
silence  ;  but  at  last,  being  constrained  to  speak,  said,  "  I  named 
a  man  whose  discourses  I  more  desire  all  tyrants  might  hear, 
than  to  be  possessor  of  the  greatest  riches." 

When  he  gave  them  tliis  obscure  answer,  they  again  inquired 
what  he  said  ;  and  when  they  persisted  in  their  inquiries,  and 
were  very  importunate,  he  at  length  told  them  that  Solon,  an 
Athenian,  formerly  visited  him,  and  having  viewed  all  his  treas- 
ures, made  no  account  or  them  ;  telling,  in  a  word,  how  every- 
thing had  befalieEL  him  as  Solon  had  warned  him,  though  his 
discourse  related  to  all  mankind  as  much  as  to  himself,  and 
especially  to  those  who  imagine  themselves  happy.  The  pile 
being  now  kindled,  the  outer  parts  began  to  burn  :  but  Cyrus, 
informed  by  the  interpreterG  of  what  Croesus  had  said,  relented, 
and  considering  that  being  but  a  man,  he  vvas  yet  going  to  burn 
another  man  alive  who  had  been  no  way  inferior  to  himself  in 
prosperity;    and  moreover  fearing  retribution,  and  reflecting 


THE  STORY  OF  CIKESUS.  537 

that  nothing  human  is  constant,  commanded  the  fire  to  be 
instantly  extinguished  and  Croesus,  with  tliose  who  were  about 
him,  to  be  taken  down ;  but  they,  with  all  their  endeavors,  were 
unable  to  master  the  fire. 

Croesus,  perceiving  that  Cyrus  had  altered  his  resolution, 
when  he  saw  every  man  endeavoring  to  put  out  the  fire  but 
unable  to  get  the  better  of  it,  shouted  aloud,  invoking  Apollo, 
and  besought  him,  if  ever  any  of  his  offerings  had  been  agree- 
able to  him,  to  protect  and  deliver  hira  from  the  present  danger  : 
he  with  tears  invoked  the  god,  and  on  a  sudden  clouds  were 
seen  gathering  in  the  air,  which  before  was  serene,  and  a  vio- 
lent storm  burst  forth  and  vehement  rain  fell  and  extinguished 
the  flames;  by  which  Cyrus  perceiving  that  Croesus  was 
beloved  by  the  gods,  and  a  good  man,  when  he  had  had  him 
taken  down  from  the  pile,  asked  him  the  following  question  •: 
"  Who  persuaded  you,  Croesus,  to  invade  my  territories,  and  to 
become  my  enemy  instead  of  my  friend  ?  " 

He  answered ;  "  O  king,  I  have  done  this  for  your  good  but 
my  own  evil  fortune,  and  the  god  of  the  Greeks  who  encour- 
aged me  to  make  war  is  the  cause  of  all.  For  no  man  is  so 
void  of  understanding  as  to  prefer  war  before  peace :  for  in 
the  latter,  children  bury  their  fathers ;  in  the  former,  fathers 
bury  their  children.  But  I  suppose  it  pleased  the  gods  that 
these  things  should  be  so." 

He  then  thus  spoke  :  but  Cyrus,  having  set  him  at  liberty, 
placed  him  by  his  ov/n  side,  and  showed  hir  i  great  respect ;  and 
both  he  and  all  those  that  were  with  him  were  astonished  at 
what  they  saw.  But  Croesus,  absorbed  in  thought,  remained 
silent;  and  presently  turning  round  and  beholding  the  Per- 
sians sacking  the  city  of  the  Lydians,  he  said  ;  "  Does  it  become 
me,  O  king,  to  tell  you  what  is  passing  through  my  mind,  or  to 
keep  silent  on  the  present  occasion  ?  " 

Cyrus  bade  him  say  with  confidence  v/hatever  he  wished; 
upon  which  Croesus  asked  him,  saying,  "What  is  this  vast 
crowd  so  earnestly  employed  about?" 

He  answered,  "  They  are  sacking  your  city  and  plundering 
your  riches." 

"  Not  so,"  Croesus  replied  ;  "  they  are  neither  sacking  my 
city  nor  plundering  my  riches,  for  they  no  longer  belong  to  me, 
but  they  are  ravaging  what  belongs  to  you." 

The  reply  of  Crtesus  attracted  the  attention  of  Cyrus ;  he 
therefore  ordered  all  the  rest  to  withdraw,  and  asked  Croesus 


638  THE   STORY  OF   CRCESUS. 

what  he  thought  should  be  done  in  the  present  conjuncture. 
He  answered  :  "  Since  the  gods  have  made  me  your  servant,  I 
think  it  my  duty  to  acquaint  you  if  I  perceive  anythino-  deserv- 
ing of  remark.  The  Persians,  who  are  by  nature  overbearing, 
are  poor.  If  therefore  you  permit  them  to  phmder  and  possess 
great  riches,  you  may  expect  the  following  results:  whoso 
acquires  the  greatest  possessions,  be  assured  will  be  ready  to 
rebel.  Therefore,  if  you  approve  what  I  say,  adopt  the  follow- 
ing plan :  place  some  of  your  bodyguard  as  sentinels  at  every 
gate,  with  orders  to  take  the  booty  from  all  those  who  would 
go  out,  and  to  acquaint  them  that  the  tenth  must  of  necessity 
be  consecrated  to  Jupiter :  thus  you  will  not  incur  the  odium 
of  taking  away  their  property  ;  and  they,  acknowledging  your 
intention  to  be  just,  will  readily  obey." 

Cyrus,  when  he  heard  this,  was  exceedingly  delighted,  as  he 
thought  the  suggestion  a  very  good  one.  Having  therefore 
commended  it  highly,  and  ordered  his  guards  to  do  what 
Crresus  suggested,  he  addressed  Croesus  as  follows  :  "  Crcesus, 
since  you  are  resolved  to  display  the  deeds  and  words  of  a  true 
king,  ask  whatever  boon  you  desire  on  the  instant." 

"Sir,"  he  answered,  "the  most  acceptable  favor  you  can 
bestow  upon  me  is  to  let  me  send  my  fetters  to  the  god  of  the 
Grecians,  whom  I  have  honored  more  than  any  other  deity,  and 
to  ask  him  if  it  be  his  custom  to  deceive  those  who  deserve  well 
of  him." 

Cyrus  asked  him  what  cause  he  had  to  complain,  that  induced 
him  to  make  this  request :  upon  which  Croesus  recounted  to  him 
all  his  projects,  and  the  answers  of  the  oracles,  and  particularly 
the  offerings  he  had  presented ;  and  hov/  he  was  incited  by  the 
oracle  to  make  war  against  the  Persians.  When  he  had  said 
this,  he  again  besought  him  to  grant  him  leave  to  reproach  the 
god  v/ith  these  things.  But  Cyrus,  smiling,  said,  "  You  shall 
not  only  receive  this  boon  from  me,  but  whatever  else  you  may 
at  any  time  desire." 

When  Croesus  heard  this,  he  sent  certain  Lydians  to  Delphi, 
with  orders  to  lay  his  fetters  at  the  entrance  of  the  temple, 
and  to  ask  the  god  if  he  were  not  ashamed  to  have  encouraged 
Crcesus  by  his  oracles  to  make  war  on  the  Persians,  as  he  would 
put  an  end  to  the  power  of  Cyrus,  of  which  war  such  were  the 
tirst  fruits  (showing  the  fetters),  and  at  the  same  time  to  ask  if 
it  were  the  custom  of  the  Grecian  gods  to  be  ungrateful. 

When  the  Lydians  arrived  at  Delphi,  and  had  delivered 


rHE   STOKY   OF   CRCESUS.  639 

their  message,  the  Pythian  is  reported  to  have  made  this  an- 
swer :  "  The  god  himself  even  cannot  avoid  tlie  decrees  of  fate ; 
and  Croesus  has  atoned  the  crime  of  his  ancestor  in  the  fiftli 
generation,  who,  being  one  of  the  bodyguard  of  the  Heraclidie, 
was  induced  by  the  artifice  of  a  woman  to  murder  his  master, 
and  to  usurp  his  dignity,  to  which  he  had  no  right.  But 
although  Apollo  was  desirous  that  the  fall  of  Sardis  might 
happen  in  the  time  of  the  sons  of  CrcEsus,  and  not  during  his 
reign,  yet  it  was  not  in  his  power  to  avert  the  fates  :  but  so  far 
as  he  allowed  they  accomplished,  and  conferred  the  boon  on 
him ;  for  he  delayed  the  capture  of  Sardis  for  the  space  of 
three  years.  Let  Croesus  know,  therefore,  that  he  was  taken 
prisoner  three  years  later  than  the  fates  had  ordained ;  and  in 
the  next  place,  he  came  to  his  relief  wlien  he  was  upon  the 
point  of  being  burned  alive.  Then,  as  to  the  prediction  of  the 
oracle,  CrcEsus  has  no  right  to  complain  :  for  Apollo  foretold 
him  that  if  he  made  war  on  the  Persians,  he  would  subvert 
a  great  empire  ;  and  had  he  desired  to  be  truly  informed,  he 
ought  to  have  sent  again  to  inquire  whether  his  own  or  that  of 
Cyrus  was  meant.  But  since  he  neither  understood  the  oracle, 
nor  inquired  again,  let  him  lay  the  blame  on  himself.  And 
when  he  last  consulted  the  oracle,  he  did  not  understand  the 
answer  concerning  the  mule  :  for  Cyrus  was  that  mule  ;  inas- 
much as  he  was  born  of  parents  of  different  nations,  the  mother 
superior,  but  the  father  inferior.  For  she  was  a  Mede,  and 
daughter  of  Astyages,  king  of  Media  ;  but  he  was  a  Persian, 
subject  to  the  Medes  ;  and  though  in  every  respect  inferior,  he 
married  his  own  mistress." 

The  Pythian  gave  this  answer  to  the  Lydians,  and  they 
carried  it  back  to  Sardis,  and  reported  it  to  Croesus,  and  he, 
when  he  heard  it,  acknowledged  the  fault  to  be  his,  and  not 
the  gods.  Such  is  the  account  of  the  kingdom  of  Croesus,  and 
the  first  subjection  of  Ionia. 


540  THE  LAST  TWO  ORACLES  OF   GREECE. 

THE  LAST  TWO   ORACLES  OF  GREECE.^ 

Tbanslatkd  by  F.  W.  H.  MYERS. 

L 

An  Oracle  Concernixo  the  Eternal  God. 

O  God  ineffable  eternal  Sire, 

Throned  on  the  whirling  spheres,  the  astral  fire, 

Hid  in  whoso  heart  thy  whole  creation  lies,  — 

The  whole  world's  wonder  mirrored  in  thine  eyes,  — 

List  thou  thy  children's  voice,  who  draw  anear, 

Thou  hast  begotten  us,  thou  too  must  hear ! 

Each  life  thy  life  her  Fount,  her  Ocean  knows, 

Fed  Avhile  it  fosters,  filling  as  it  flows ; 

Wrapt  in  thy  light  the  star-set  cycles  roll. 

And  Avorlds  within  fchee  stir  into  a  soul ; 

But  stars  and  soul^  shall  keep  their  watch  and  way, 

Nor  change  the  going  of  thy  lonely  day. 

Some  sons  of  thine,  our  Father,  King  of  kings, 
Rest  in  the  cheen  and  shelter  of  thy  wings,  — 
Some  to  strange  hearts  the  unspoken  message  bear, 
Sped  on  thy  strength  through  the  haunts  and  homes  of  air,  — • 
Some  where  thine  honor  dwelleth  hope  and  wait, 
Sigh  for  thy  courts  and  gather  at  thy  gate ; 
These  from  afar  to  thee  their  praises  bring, 
Of  thee,  albeit  they  have  not  seen  thee,  sing; 
Of  thee  the  Father  wise,  the  Mother  mild, 
Thee  in  all  children  the  eternal  Child, 
Thee  the  first  Number  and  harmonious  Whole, 
Form  in  all  forms,  and  of  all  souls  the  Soul. 

IL 

To  Amelius,  aviio  inquired,  "Where  is  now  Plotinus'  Soul?" 

Pure  spirit  —  once  a  man  —  pure  spirits  now 
Greet  thee  rejoicing,  and  of  these  art  thou; 
Not  vainly  was  thy  whole  soul  alway  bent 
With  one  same  battle  and  one  the  same  intent 
Through  eddying  cloud  and  earth's  bewildering  roar 
To  win  her  bright  way  to  that  stainless  shore. 
Ay,  'mid  the  salt  spume  of  this  troublous  sea, 
This  death  in  life,  this  sick  perplexity, 

♦  From  "Ilellenica,"  a  collection  of  Essays  edited  by  E.  Abbott.     By  permissie* 
of  the  editor  and  the  publishers,  Lon groans,  Green  &  Co. 


WIT  AND  SATIKE  OF  THE  GREEK  ANTHOLOGY.      511 

Oft  on  thy  struggle  through  the  obscure  unrest 

A  revelation  opened  from  the  Blest  — 

Showed  close  at  hand  the  goal  thy  hope  would  win, 

Heaven's  kingdom  round  thee  and  thy  God  wuthin. 

So  sure  a  help  the  eternal  Guardians  gave, 

From  Life's  confusion  so  were  strong  to  save, 

Upheld  thy  Avandering  steps  that  sought  the  day 

And  set  them  steadfast  on  the  heavenly  way. 

Nor  quite  even  here  on  thy  broad  brows  was  shed 

The  sleep  which  shrouds  the  living,  who  are  dead; 

Once  by  God's  grace  was  from  thine  eyes  unfurled 

This  veil  that  screens  the  immense  and  whirling  world, 

Once,  while  the  spheres  around  thee  in  music  ran, 

Was  very  Beauty  manifest  to  man ;  — 

Ah,  once  to  have  seen  her,  once  to  have  known  her  there, 

For  speech  too  sweet,  for  earth  too  heavenly  fair ! 

But  now  the  tomb  where  long  thy  soul  had  lain 

Bursts,  and  thy  tabernacle  is  rent  in  twain  ; 

Now  from  about  thee,  in  thy  nev/  home  above. 

Has  perished  all  but  life,  and  all  but  love,  — 

And  on  all  lives  and  on  all  loves  outpoured 

Free  grace  and  full,  a  Spirit  from  the  Lord, 

High  in  that  heaven  whose  windless  vaults  enfold 

Just  men  made  perfect,  and  an  age  all  gold. 

Thine  own  Pythagoras  is  with  thee  there, 

And  sacred  Plato  in  that  sacred  air. 

And  whoso  followed,  and  all  high  hearts  that  knew 

In  death's  despite  what  deathless  Love  can  do. 

To  God's  right  hand  they  have  scaled  the  starry  v/ay  — 

Pure  spirits  these,  thy  spirit  pure  as  they. 

Ah  saint !  how  many  and  many  an  anguish  past, 

To  how  fair  haven  art  thou  come  at  last ! 

On  thy  meek  head  what  Powers  their  blessing  pour, 

Filled  full  with  life,  and  rich  for  evermore  i 


WIT  AND  SATIRE  OF  THE  GREEK  ANTHOLOGY.^ 

Translated  by   LORD   NEAVES,    Senator   of   the   College   of   Justice, 

Scotland. 

It  would  not  have  been  conformable  either  to  human  nature 
in  general,  or  to  Greek  nature  in  particular,  if  the  country  and 
the  literature  that  produced  Aristophanes  should  not  in  its  less 
'  F.y  permission  of  AV.  Blackwood  and  Sons. 


542     WIT  AND  SATIRE   OF   THE  GREEK  ANTHOLOGY. 

serious  compositions  have  given  some  place  for  wit  and  sarcasm. 
We  find,  accordingly,  that  these  elements  are  not  wanting.  A 
great  many  epigrams  both  of  a  jocular  and  of  a  satirical  kind 
are  well  deserving  of  notice,  of  which  specimens  shall  now  be 
given. 

Nowhere,  perhaps,  are  the  proper  objects  of  ridicule  better 
set  forth  than  in  the  Introduction  to  one  of  Foote's  farces.  He 
refuses  to  bring  on  the  stage  mere  bodily  defects  or  natural 
misfortunes  ;  and  when  asked  to  say  at  what  things  we  may 
laugh  with  propriety,  answers  thus  :  "  At  an  old  beau,  a 
superannuated  beaut}^,  a  military  coward,  a  stuttering  orator, 
or  a  gouty  dancer.  In  short,  whoever  affects  to  be  what  he  is 
not,  or  strives  to  be  what  he  cannot,  is  an  object  worthy  the 
poet's  pen  and  your  mirth." 

We  do  not  say  that  the  Greek  epigrammatist  always  ab- 
stained from  making  merry  at  mere  bodily  defects  ;  but  we 
shall  avoid  as  much  as  possible  those  that  have  no  other  recom- 
mendation. The  proper  object  of  ridicule  is  surely  Folly,  and 
the  proper  object  of  satire.  Vice.  Within  the  present  section, 
however,  will  be  included  not  merely  the  ridicule  of  sarcasm 
and  the  attacks  of  satire,  but  any  also  of  those  merry  or  witty 
views  of  nature  and  things  that  tend  to  produce  sympathetic 
laughter. 

Of  bodily  peculiarities  there  are  some  at  which  it  is  difficult 
not  to  smile ;  and  if  it  is  done  good-humoredly,  and  rather  as 
a  warning  to  abstain  from  vanity  or  conceit,  there  is  no  harm 
in  it.  Many  of  such  epigrams  were  probably  written  upon 
merely  imaginary  persons  :  — 

A  New  Use  of  a  Human  Face. 

(Attributed  to  the  Emperor  Trajan:  the  translation  old.) 

With  nose  so  long  and  mouth  so  wide, 
And  those  twelve  grinders  side  by  side, 
Dick,  with  a  vory  little  trial, 
Would  make  an  excellent  sundial. 

Some  of  the  critics  are  greatly  delighted  to  find  that  in  this 
epigram  the  Emperor's  knowledge  of  Greek  vras  not  such  as  to 
prevent  him  committing  a  false  quantity. 


WIT  AND  SATIRE  OF  THE  GREEK  ANTHOLOGY.     543 

A  Counterpart  to  Narcissus. 

(By  Lucilius  :  translated  by  Cowper.) 

Beware,  my  friend !  of  crystal  brook 
Or  fountain,  lest  tliat  hideous  hook, 

Thy  nose,  thou  chance  to  see ; 
Narcissus'  fate  would  tlien  be  thine. 
And  self-detested  thou  wouldst  pine, 

As  self -enamored  he. 

Long  and  Short, 
(Anonymous :  translated  by  Merivale.) 

Dick  cannot  blow  his  nose  whene'er  he  pleases, 
His  nose  so  long  is,  and  his  arm  so  short ; 

Nor  ever  cries,  God  bless  me  !  when  he  sneezes  — 
He  cannot  hear  so  distant  a  report. 

A  variety  of  trades  and  professions  have  been  traditional 
objects  of  ridicule.  Schoolmasters  and  professors  come  in  for 
their  share. 

On  a  Schoolmaster  who  had  a  Gay  Wife. 

(By  Lucilius.) 

You  in  your  school  forever  flog  and  flay  us. 
Teaching  what  Paris  did  to  Menelaus ; 
But  all  the  while,  within  your  private  dwelling, 
There's  many  a  Paris  courting  of  your  Helen. 

On  a  Professor  who  had  a  Small  Class. 

Hail,  Aristides,  Rhetoric's  great  professor! 
Of  wondrous  words  we  own  thee  the  possessor. 
Hail  ye,  his  pupils  seven,  that  mutely  hear  him  — 
His  room's  four  walls,  and  the  three  benches  near  him ! 

This  that  follows  is  on  Cadmus,  without  whom  there  might 
have  been  no  grammar,  and  little  rhetoric.  It  is  said  to  be  by 
Zeno  —  not  the  philosopher,  we  presume.  We  give  first  a 
translation  by  Wellesley  :  — 

Take  it  not  ill  that  Cadmus,  Phoenician  though  he  be, 

Can  say  that  Greece  was  taught  by  him  to  write  her  A,  B,  C. 


544     WIT  AND  SATIRE  OF  THE  GREEK  ANTHOLOGY.  * 

This  is  good  ;  but  even  "  English  readers  "  may  know  that 
A,  B,  C,  is  not  the  right  name  of  the  Greek  alphabet.  Let  us 
respectfully  propose  a  slight  change  :  — 

Cadmus  am  I :  then  grudge  me  not  the  boast,  that,  though  I  am  a 
Phoenician  born,  I  taught  you  Greeks  your  Alpha,  Beta,  Gamma. 

The  medical  profession  as  usual  comes  in  for  some  of  those 
touches  which  we  are  ready  enough  to  give  or  to  enjoy  when  we 
are  not  actually  in  their  hands. 

A  Convenient  Partnership. 

(Anonymous.) 

Damon,  who  plied  the  Undertaker's  trade, 
With  Doctor  Crateas  an  agreement  made. 
What  linens  Damon  from  the  dead  could  seize, 
He  to  the  doctor  sent  for  bandages ; 
While  the  good  Doctor,  here  no  promise  breaker, 
Sent  all  his  patients  to  the  Undertaker. 

Grammar  and  Medicine. 

(By  Agathias.) 

A  thriving  doctor  sent  his  son  to  school 

To  gain  some  knowledge,  should  he  prove  no  fool ; 

But  took  him  soon  away  with  little  warning, 

On  finding  out  the  lesson  he  was  learning  — 

How  great  Pelides'  wrath,  in  Homer's  rhyme, 

Sent  many  souls  to  Hades  ere  their  time. 

"No  need  for  this  ray  boy  should  hither  come  ; 

That  lesson  he  can  better  learn  at  home  — 

For  I  myself,  now,  I  make  bold  to  say, 

Send  many  souls  to  Hades  ere  their  day, 

Nor  e'er  find  want  of  Grammar  stop  my  way." 

Musical  attempts,  when  unsuccessful,  are  a  fruitful  and  fair 
subject  of  ridicule.     The  following  is  by  Nicarchus  :  — 

Men  die  when  the  night  raven  sings  or  cries : 
But  when  Dick  sings,  e'en  the  night  raven  dies. 


WIT  AND  SATIRE   OF   THE   GREEK  ANTHOLOGY.     545 

Compensation. 

( IJy  Leonidas.) 

The  harper  Simylus,  the  whole  night  through, 
Harped  till  his  music  all  the  neighbors  slew : 
All  but  deaf  Origen,  for  whose  dull  ears 
Nature  atoned  by  giving  length  of  years. 

The  Musical  Doctor. 
(By  Ammiauus  :  the  translation  altered  from  Wellesley.) 

Nicias,  a  doctor  and  musician, 
Lies  under  very  foul  suspicion. 
He  sings,  and  without  any  shame 

He  murders  all  the  finest  music: 
Does  he  prescribe  ?  our  fate's  the  same. 

If  he  shall  e'er  find  me  or  you  sick. 

Unsuccessful  painters,  too,  are  sneered  at.  This  is  by 
Lucilius :  — 

Eutychus  many  portraits  made,  and  many  sons  begot ; 
But,  strange  to  say  !  none  ever  saw  a  likeness  in  the  lot. 

Compliments  to  the  fair  sex  are  often  paid  by  the  epigram- 
matists in  a  manner  at  once  witty  and  graceful. 

We  have  seen  how  Sappho  was  described  as  a  tenth  Muse  ; 
but  this  epigram  by  an  unknown  author  goes  further.  The 
translation  is  old  and  anonymous,  though  borrowed  apparently 
from  one  by  Swift,  on  which  it  has  improved.  It  has  been 
slightly  altered :  — 

The  world  must  now  two  Venuses  adore  ; 
Ten  are  the  Muses,  and  the  Graces  four. 
Such  Dora's  wit,  so  fair  her  form  and  face. 
She's  a  new  Muse,  a  Venus,  and  a  Grace. 

We  find  an  adaptation  of  this  to  an  accomplished  Cornish 
lady,  in  an  old  magazine  :  — 

Now  the  Graces  are  four  and  the  Venuses  two. 

And  ten  is  the  number  of  Muses ; 
For  a  Muse  and  a  Grace  and  a  Venus  are  you, 

My  dear  little  Molly  Trefusis. 

& 


546     WIT   AND  SATIRE  OF  THE   GREEK  ANTHOLOGY. 

Finally,  we  have  another  edition  of  this  idea  with  a  bit  of  satire 
at  the  end,  which  has  been  maliciously  added  by  the  translator: — 

Of  Graces  four,  of  Muses  ten, 

Of  Venuses  now  two  are  seen ; 
Doris  shines  forth  to  dazzled  men, 

A  Grace,  a  Muse,  and  Beauty's  Queen;  — 
But  let  me  whisper  one  thing  more ; 
The  Furies  now  are  likewise  four. 

The  faults  and  foibles  of  women,  springing  often  so  natu- 
rally from  their  innate  wish  to  please,  have  not  escaped  such  of 
the  epigrammatists  as  were  inclined  to  satire,  and  some  of  them 
are  bitter  enough.  The  first  we  give  must  have  been  occasioned 
by  some  irritating  disappointment,  or  have  sprung  from  an  un- 
worthy opinion  of  the  sex.     It  is  by  our  friend  Palladas  :  — 

All  wives  are  plagues ;  yet  two  blest  times  have  they,  — 
Their  bridal  first,  and  then  their  burial  day. 

The  others  vre  giye  are  less  sweeping,  and  more  directed 
against  individual  failings,  particularly  the  desire  to  appear 
more  beautiful  or  more  youthful  than  tho  facts  warranted.  This 
is  by  Lucilius :  — 

Chioe,  those  locks  of  raven  hair,  — 

Some  people  say  you  dye  them  black  ; 
But  that's  a  libel,  I  can  swear, 

For  I  know  where  you  buy  them  black. 

Our  next  deals  with  a  very  systematic  dyer  and  getter-up 
of  artificial  juvenility,  who  seems  to  have  been  her  own  Madame 
Rachel.  The  Greek  is  Lucian's,  and  the  translation  by  Meri- 
vale.  There  is  also  one  by  Cowper,  which  will  be  found  among 
his  works  :  — 

Yes,  you  may  dye  your  hair,  but  not  your  age, 
•    Nor  smooth,  alas !  the  wrinkles  of  your  face : 
Yes,  you  may  varnish  o'er  the  telltale  page, 

And  wear  a  mask  for  every  vanished  grace. 
But  there's  an  end.     No  Hecuba,  by  aid 
Of  rouge  and  ceruse,  is  a  Helen  made." 

The  inactive  habits  of  most  of  the  Greek  women  are  thought 
to  have  created  a  temptation  to  the  use  of  these  artificial  modes 
of  heightening  the  complexion,  which  would  have  been  better 


WIT  AND   SATIRE  OF  THE   GREEK  ANTHOLOGY.     547 

effected  by  the  natural  pigments   laid   on   by  fresh   air   and 
exercise. 

This  is  by  Nicarchus,  upon  an  old  woman  wishing  to  be 
married  at  rather  an  advanced  period  of  life  :  — 

N iconoe  has  doubtless  reached  her  prime : 
Yes,  for  she  did  so  in  Deucalion's  time. 
We  don't  know  as  to  that,  but  think  her  doom 
Less  fitted  for  a  husband  than  a  tomb. 

This  also  is  upon  an  old,  or  at  least  a  plain  woman,  by 
Lucilius  :  — 

Gellia,  your  mirror's  false ;  you  could  not  bear, 
If  it  were  true,  to  see  your  image  there. 

On  a  Woman  scornful  in  Youth  playing  the  Coquette  when 

Old. 

(By  Kufinus.) 

You  now  salute  me  graciously,  when  gone 
Your  beauty's  power,  that  once  like  marble  shone ; 
You  now  look  sweet,  though  forced  to  hide  away 
Those  locks  that  o'er  your  proud  neck  used  to  stray. 
Vain  are  your  arts :  your  faded  charms  I  scorn ; 
The  rose  now  past,  I  care  not  for  the  thorn. 

Upon  a  Lady's  Coy,  Eeluctant,  "Unamorous"  Delay. 

(By  Rufimis.) 

How  long,  hard  Prodice,  am  I  to  kneel. 
And  pray  "nd  whine,  to  move  that  breast  of  steel? 
You  e'en  are  getting  gray,  as  much  as  I  am ; 
We  soon  shall  be  —  just  Hecuba  and  Priam. 

Deafness  is  an  infirmity  which  is  a  proper  object,  not  of 
ridicule,  but  of  pity ;  but  then  the  deaf  person  should  not  pre- 
tend to  hear  when  he  or  she  cannot,  as  was  the  case  with  the 
old  lady  now  to  be  noticed :  — 

On  a  Deaf  Housekeeper. 

(Paraphrased.) 

Of  all  life's  plagues  I  recommend  to  no  man 
To  hire  as  a  domestic  a  deaf  woman. 


548      WIT   AND   SATIRE   OF   THE   GREEK   ANTHOLOGY. 

I've  got  one  who  my  orders  does  not  hear, 
Mishears  them  rather,  and  keeps  blundering  near. 
Thirsty  and  hot,  I  asked  her  for  a  drink  ; 
She  bustled  out,  and  brought  me  back  some  iiik. 
Eating  a  good  rump  steak,  I  called  for  mustard; 
Away  she  went,  and  whipped  me  up  a  custard. 
I  wanted  with  my  chicken  to  have  ham; 
Blundering  once  more,  she  brought  a  pot  of  jam. 
I  wished  in  season  for  a  cut  of  salmon, 
And  what  she  bought  me  was  a  huge  fat  gammon. 
I  can't  my  voice  raise  higher  and  still  higher. 
As  if  I  were  a  herald  or  town-crier. 
'Twould  better  be  if  she  were  deaf  outright ; 
But  anyhow  she  quits  my  house  this  night. 

Those  ladies  —  generally,  of  course,  such  as  were  advanced 
in  life  —  who  unblushingly  betook  themselves  to  the  bottle,  are 
an  inevitable  subject  of  satire.  It  has  already  been  mentioned 
that  even  men  were  considered  intemperate  who  drank  wine 
without  a  large  admixture  of  water;  but  apparently  the 
female  topers,  having  once  broken  bounds,  took  their  wine 
unmixed. 

Epitaph  on  Maronis. 

This  rudely  sculptured  Cup  will  show 

Where  gray  Maronis  lies  below. 

She  talked,  and  drank  strong  unmixed  stuff, 

Both  of  them  more  than  q^lantum  suff. 

She  does  not  for  her  children  grieve, 

Nor  their  poor  father  grudge  to  leave ; 

It  only  vexes  her  to  think 

This  drinking  cup's  not  filled  with  drink. 

The  last  couplet  might  be  more  literally  translated  thus  :  — 

But  in  the  grave  she  scarcely  can  lie  still. 

To  think,  what  Bacchus  owns,  she  can't  with  Bacchus  fill. 

Love  is  sometimes  treated  of  in  a  vein  of  pleasantry,  very 
different  from  the  deep  and  impassioned  tone  in  which  it  is 
exhibited  in  more  serious  compositions.  Take  some  ex- 
amples :  — 


WIT  AND  SATIRE  OF  THE   GREEK  ANTHOLOGY.     549 

Is  A  Black  Woman  one  of  the  Faih  Sex? 
(By  Meleager.) 

By  Didyma's  beauty  I'm  carried  away ; 

I  melt,  when  I  see  it,  like  wax  before  iire : 

She  is  black,  it  is  true :  so  are  coals ;  but  even  they, 

When  they're  Avarmed,  a  bright  glow  like  the  rose  cup  acquire. 

This  is  by  Archias,  Cicero's  friend  and  client,  written  per- 
haps to  illustrate  some  piece  of  art :  — 

What !  fly  from  Love  ?  vain  hope  :  there's  no  retreat, 
When  he  has  wings  and  I  have  only  feet. 

This  is  by  Crates,  translated  by  Sayers,  Southey's  friend :  — 

Cubes  for  Love. 

Hunger,  perhaps,  may  cure  your  love 
Or  time  your  passion  greatly  alter  ; 

If  both  should  unsuccessful  prove, 
I  strongly  recommend  a  halter. 

Venus  and  the  Muses. 

(By  some  said  to  be  Plato's.) 

To  the  Muses  said  Venus :  "  Maids,  mind  what  you  do ; 
Honor  me,  or  I'll  set  my  boy  Cupid  on  you." 
Then  to  Venus  the  Muses :  "  To  Mars  chatter  thus : 
Your  urchin  ne'er  ventures  to  fly  upon  us." 

The  light  and  cheerful  way  in  which  poor  men  speak  of  their 
poverty  is  often  pleasant.     Here  are  some  examples  :  — 

Want  a  Good  Watchdog. 
(By  Julian ;  the  translation  by  Wellesley.) 

Seek  a  more  profitable  job. 

Good  housebreakers,  elsewhere : 

These  premises  you  cannot  rob, 
Want  guards  them  with  such  care. 

The  Poor  Scholar's  Admonition  to  the  Mice. 

(By  Aristo.) 

0  mice !  if  here  you  come  for  food,  you'd  better  go  elsewhere. 
For  in  this  cabin,  small  and  rude,  you'll  find  but  slender  fare. 


550      WIT  AND   SATIRE  OF  THE   GREEK  ANTHOLOGY. 

Go  where  you'll  meet  with  good  fat  cheese,  and  sweet  dried 

figs  in  plenty, 
Where  even  the  scraps  will  yield  with  ease  a  banquet  rich 

and  dainty : 
If  to  devour  my  books  you  come,  you'll  rue  it;  without  question, 
And  find  them  all,  as  I  find  some,  of  very  hard  digestion. 

The  folly  of  fools  is  a  fair  subject  of  ridicule.  This  is  by 
Liician  :  — 

A  blockhead  bit  by  fleas  put  out  the  light, 
And  chuckling  cried,  Now  you  can't  see  to  bite. 

Here  is  something  which  the  Greeks  considered  folly,  by 
Lucian  :  — 

While  others  tippled,  Sam  from  drinking  shrunk, 
Which  made  the  rest  think  Sam  alone  was  drunk. 

Without  recommending  excess,  there  are  a  good  many  in- 
vitations to  jollity.     Here  is  one  :  — 

Sober  Eubulus,  friends,  lies  here  below  : 
So  then,  let's  drink :  to  Hades  all  must  go. 

What  follows  is  a  favorite  sentiment  —  perhaps  too  much  so  — 
with  the  old  poets  :  — 

Wine  to  the  poet  is  a  winged  steed ; 

Those  who  drink  Avater  come  but  little  speed. 

One  great  poet  has  existed  in  our  day  who  was  a  signal  excep- 
tion to  this  alleged  rule. 

The  following  is  by  the  Emperor  Julian,  and  refers  to  that 
substitute  for  wine  which  the  Germans  discovered  by  ferment- 
ing, or,  as  Tacitus  calls  it,  corrupting^  grain.  It  does  not  seem 
to  have  pleased  the  imperial  wine  drinker.  The  translation  is 
necessarily  paraphrastic  :  — 

^\Tio  ?  whence  this,  Bacchus  ?  for  by  Bacchus'  self, 
The  son  of  Jove,  I  know  not  this  strange  elf. 
The  other  smells  like  nectar :  but  thou  here 
Like  the  he-goat.     Those  wr  :tched  Celts,  I  fear, 
For  want  of  grapes  made  thee  of  ears  of  corn. 
Demetrius  art  thou,  of  Demeter  born, 
Not  Bacchus,  Dionysus,  nor  yet  wine  — 
Those  names  but  fit  the  products  of  the  vine ; 
Beer  thou  mayst  be  from  Barley ;  or,  that  failing, 
We'll  call  thee  Ale,  for  thou  wilt  keep  us  ailing. 


WIT   AND  SATIRE  OF   THE   GREEK  ANTHOLOGY.      551 

A  bath  to  the  Greeks,  as  we  might  expect  —  at  least,  in  their 
later  development  —  was  a  great  enjoyment,  if  not  a  necessity 
of  life.  The  epigrammatists  supply  us  with  many  pleasant  and 
playful  inscriptions  for  baths  or  bathing  places,  illustrating  their 
virtues  and  attractions.  The  purity  and  freshness  of  the  water 
are  natural  themes  of  eulogium,  and  the  patronage  of  divine 
beings  is  readily  supposed.  Here  is  a  selection,  all  of  them 
apparently  anonymous  :  — 

This  bath  may  boast  the  Graces'  own  to  be,  — 
And  for  that  reason  it  holds  only  three. 

Here  bathed  the  Graces,  and  at  leaving  gave 
Their  choicest  splendors  to  requite  the  wave. 

Or  thus,  which  we  may  suppose  written  of  the  draped  Graces  :  — 

Here  bathed  the  Graces,  and,  by  way  of  payment, 

Left  half  their  charms  when  they  resumed  their  raiment. 

Here  Venus  bathed,  ere  she  to  Paris'  eyes 
Displayed  the  immortal  form  that  gained  the  prize 

Or  thus :  — 

Straight  from  this  bath  went  Venus,  wet  and  dripping; 
To  Paris  showed  herself — and  won  the  pippin. 

Either  these  waves  gave  Venus  birth,  or  she, 
Her  form  here  bathing,  made  them  what  we  see. 

On  a  Small-sized  Bath. 

Blame  not  things  little :  Grace  may  on  them  wait. 
Cupid  is  little ;  but  his  godhead's  great. 

We  are  warned,  however,  that  excess  in  the  use  of  the 
warm  bath,  as  in  other  indulgences,  may  be  injurious  :  — 

Wine  and  the  bath,  and  lawless  love  for  ladies, 
Just  send  us  quicker  down  the  hill  to  Hades. 

Some  vices  are  particularly  obnoxious  to  the  satirical  epi- 
grammatist, especially  avarice  and  envy  :  — 


^52     WIT  AND  SATIRE  OF  THE   GREEK  ANTHOLOG:^. 

Stinginess  in  Hospitality. 

{By  Pallas :  translation  altered  from  Wellesley.") 

Most  people  dine  but  once,  but  when  we've  dined 

With  our  friend  Salaminus, 
We  dine  again  at  home,  for  faith !  we  find 

He  did  not  truly  dine  us. 

Board  or  Lodging. 

(By  Lucilius :  translation  altered  from  Cowper. ) 

Asclepiades,  the  Miser,  in  his  house 

Espied  one  day,  with  some  surprise,  a  mouse : 

"  Tell  me,  dear  mouse,"  he  cried,  "  to  what  cause  is  it 

I  owe  this  pleasant  but  unlooked-for  visit  ?  " 

The  mouse  said,  smiling :  "  Fear  not  for  your  hoard : 

I  come,  my  friend,  to  lodge,  and  not  to  board." 

There  are  several  vigorous  denunciations  of  the  vice  of  envy. 
This  is  anonymous  :  — 

Envy  is  vile,  but  plays  a  useful  part. 
Torturing  in  envious  men  both  eyes  and  heart. 

This  is  in  that  exaggerated  style  which  the  epigrams  some- 
times   exliibit.       It    is    by    Lucilius  —  the    translation    from 

Wellesley  :  — 

Poor  Diophon  of  envy  died. 

His  brother  thief  to  see 
Nailed  near  him,  to  be  crucified, 

Upon  a  higher  tree. 

But  the  best  epigram  on  this  subject  is  to  be  found  in 
one  which  seems  to  describe  a  picture  of  Momus  the  fault- 
finder, the  impersonation  of  Envy,  perhaps  also,  some  will  say, 
of  Criticism,  —  the  Power  who  could  produce  nothing  excellent 
himself,  and  who  never  saw  unmixed  excellence  in  the  works 
of  others.  The  picture  is  supposed  to  have  been  by  Apelles. 
The  epigram  is  anonymous  ;  the  translation  partly  from  Hay  :  — 

Who  here  has  formed,  with  faultless  hand  and  skill, 
Eault-finding  Momus,  source  of  endless  ill  ? 
On  the  bare  earth  his  aged  limbs  are  thrown, 


WIT  AND  SATIRE  OF  THE  GREEK  ANTHOLOGY.     553 

As  if  in  life,  to  lie  and  sigh  and  groan. 

His  frame  is  wasted,  and  his  scanty  hairs 

One  trembling  hand  from  his  thin  temple  tears : 

With  his  old  staff  the  other  strikes  the  ground, 

AVliich  all  insensate  to  the  blows  is  found. 

In  double  row  his  gnashing  teeth  declare 

How  much  his  neighbor's  weal  o'erwhelms  him  with  despair. 

Swift  made  a  well-known  epitaph  upon  Vanljrugh  as  an 
architect  ;  — 

Lie  heavy  on  him,  earth,  for  he 
Laid  many  a  heavy  load  on  thee. 

This  is  nearly  the  counterpart  of  the  following  Greek  epi- 
gram :  — 

Hail,  Mother  Earth  !  lie  light  on  him 

Whose  tombstone  here  we  see : 
^sigenes,  his  form  was  slim, 

And  light  his  weight  on  thee. 

A  similar  request  is  made  in  another  epigram  by  Ammianus, 
but  with  a  very  different  feeling.  The  translation  is  by 
Merivale  :  — 

Light  lie  the  earth,  Nearchus,  on  thy  clay,  — 
That  so  the  dogs  may  easier  find  their  prey. 

This  anonymous  epigram  is  upon  a  matricide,  who  does  not 
deserve  burial  :  — 

Bury  him  not !  no  burial  is  for  him : 
Let  hungry  dogs  devour  him  limb  by  limb. 
Our  general  Mother,  Earth,  on  her  kind  breast 
Will  ne'er  allow  a  matricide  to  rest. 

The  satirical  epigrammatists  indulge  often  in  national  in- 
vective, and  indeed  the  Greeks  were  too  fond  of  abusing  some 
of  their  neighbors.     Here  are  specimens  :  — 

A  viper  bit  a  Cappadocian's  hide ; 

But  'twas  the  viper,  not  the  man,  that  died. 

The  natives  of  many  other  countries  besides  Cappadocia 
were  called  bad :  among  the  rest  the  Lerians  ;  thus  :  — 

Lerians  are  bad :  not  sojne  bad,  and  some  not, 
But  all ;  there's  not  a  Lerian  in  the  lot. 
Save  Procles,  that  you  could  a  good  man  call ;  — 
And  Procles  —  is  a  Lerian  after  all. 


554      WIT   AND   SATIRE   OF   THE   GREEK   ANTHOLOGY. 

Our  readers  will  here  recognize  the  original  of  a  well-known 
epigram  by  Porson,  Avhich  exists  both  in  a  Greek  and  English 
shape,  and  where  the  satirist,  after  denouncing  the  Germans 
as  all  ignorant  of  Greek  meters,  concludes  :  — 

All,  save  only  Hermann ;  — 
And  Hermann's  a  German. 

It  was  unfortunate  for  poor  Hermann  that  his  name  and  his 
nationality  rhymed  so  well  together. 

An  epigram  may  here  be  given  in  conclusion  on  this  head, 
as  tending,  perhaps,  to  illustrate  the  transition  by  which  the 
satirical  Greek  epigram  came  to  resemble  the  favorite  style  of 
Martial,  which  has  been  so  much  adopted  in  modern  times. 

The  epigram  we  refer  to  is  by  Luciiius  :  — 

On  a  Declamatory  Pleader. 

A  little  pig,  an  ox,  a  goat  (my  only  one),  I  lost, 

And  Menecles,  to  plead  my  cause,  I  fee'd  at  some  small  cost. 

I  only  wanted  back  my  beasts,  which  seemed  my  simple  due ; 

Then,  Menecles,  what  had  I  with  Othryades  to  do  ? 

I  never  thought  in  this  affair  to  charge  with  any  theft 

The  men  who,  at  Thermopylae,  their  lives  and  bodies  left. 

My  suit  is  with  Eutychides ;  and  if  I  get  decree, 

Leonidas  and  Xerxes  both  are  welcome  to  go  free. 

Plead  my  true  case:   lest  I  cry  out  (I  can't  my  feelings 

smother), 
"  The  little  pig  one  story  tells,  and  Menecles  another." 

This  satire  upon  a  certain  class  of  lawyers  agrees  completely 
with  an  epigram  of  Martial's  ;  and  as  Luciiius  and  he  lived 
nearly  about  the  same  time,  it  would  be  interesting  to  know  if 
the  one  was  borrowed  from  the  other,  and  which.  The  pre- 
ponderance of  evidence  rather  is  that  Luciiius,  as  Lessing 
thinks,  was  a  century,  or  at  least  half  a  century,  later  than 
Martial,  and  is  probably,  therefore,  the  imitator  in  this  matter, 
though  his  imitation  is  not  slavish.  Martial's  epigram  has 
been  translated  into  French  by  La  Monnoye. 

This  chapter  may  be  concluded  with  a  mild  satire  upon  the 
condition  of  the  times,  with  reference  to  the  two  ancient 
worthies,  Heraclitus  and  Democritus,  the  weeping  and  the 
laughing  philosopher.    The  translation  is  mainly  from  Prior  :  — 


»_ 

Pi 

<s 

rt 

(15 

TS 

<1) 

m 

> 

o 

^ 

«4H 
O 

o 

43 

05 

P^ 

aj 

{^ 

a 

U2 

fac 

H 

'5 

i-t 

J^ 

THE  ISLES  OF  GREECE.  555 

Sad  Heraclitus,  "with  thy  tears  return ; 

Life  more  than  ever  gives  us  cause  to  mourn. 

Democritus,  dear  droll,  revisit  earth  : 

Life  more  than  ever  gives  us  cause  for  mirth. 

Between  you  both  I  stand  in  thoughtful  pother, 

How  I  should  weep  with  one,  how  laugh  with  t'other 


THE  ISLES   OF   GREECE. 

By  lord  BYRON. 

[Lord  George  Noel  Gordon  Byron:  A  famous  English  poet;  born  in  London, 
January  22,  1788.  At  the  age  of  ten  he  succeeded  to  the  estate  and  title  of  his 
granduncle  William,  fifth  Lord  Byron.  He  was  educated  at  Harrow  and  Cain- 
bridge,  and  in  1807  published  his  first  volume  of  poems,  "  Hours  of  Idleness." 
After  a  tour  through  eastern  Europe  he  brought  out  two  cantos  of  "Childe 
Harold,"  which  met  with  instantaneous  success,  and  soon  after  he  married  the 
heiress  Miss  Millbanke.  The  union  proving  unfortunate,  Byron  left  England, 
and  passed  several  years  in  Italy.  In  1823  he  joined  the  Greek  insurgents  in 
Cephalonia,  and  later  at  Missolonghi,  where  he  died  of  a  fever  April  19,  1824. 
His  chief  poetical  works  are:  "Childe  Harold,"  "Don  Juan,"  "Manfred," 
"Cain,"  "Marino  Ealiero,"  "  Sardanapalus,"  "The  Giaour,"  "Bride  of  Aby- 
dos,"  "The  Corsair,"  "Lara,"  and  "Mazeppa."] 

The  isles  of  Greece !     The  isles  of  Greece ! 

"Where  burning  Sappho  loved  and  sung,  — 
Where  grew  the  arts  of  war  and  peace, 

Where  Delos  rose  and  Phoebus  sprung ! 
Eternal  summer  gilds  them  yet,  — 
But  all,  except  their  sun,  is  set. 

The  Scian  and  the  Teian  muse. 

The  hero's  harp,  the  lover's  lute, 
Have  found  the  fame  your  shores  refuse ; 

Their  place  of  birth  alone  is  mute 
To  sounds  that  echo  further  west 
Than  your  sires'  "  Islands  of  the  Blest." 

The  mountains  look  on  Marathon, 

And  Marathon  looks  on  the  sea; 
And  musing  there  an  hour  alone, 

I  dreamed  that  Greece  might  still  be  free ; 
For,  standing  on  the  Persian's  grave, 
T  could  not  deem  myself  a  slave. 


656  THE  ISLES  OF  GREECE. 

A  king  sat  on  tlie  rocky  brow 
That  looks  o'er  sea-born  Salamis, 

And  ships  by  thousands  lay  below, 
And  men  in  nations  —  all  were  his  ! 

He  counted  them  at  break  of  day, 

And  when  the  sun  set  where  were  they  ? 

And  where  are  they  ?  and  where  art  thou. 
My  country  ?     On  thy  voiceless  shore 

The  heroic  lay  is  tuneless  now  — 
The  heroic  bosom  beats  no  more ! 

And  must  thy  lyre,  so  long  divine, 

Degenerate  into  hands  like  mine  ? 

'Tis  something  in  the  dearth  of  fame. 
Though  linked  among  a  fettered  race, 

To  feel  at  least  a  patriot's  shame. 
Even  as  I  sing,  suffuse  my  face. 

For  what  is  left  the  poet  here  ? 

For  Greeks  a  blush  —  for  Greece  a  tear. 

Must  ive  but  weep  o'er  days  more  blessed  ? 

Must  tve  but  blush  ?  —  Our  fathers  bled. 
Earth !  render  back  from  out  thy  breast 

A  remnant  of  our  Spartan  dead ! 
Of  the  three  hundred  grant  but  three, 
To  make  a  new  Thermopylae ! 

What !  silent  still  ?  and  silent  all  ? 

Ah !  no ;  the  voices  of  the  dead 
Sound  like  a  distant  torrent's  fall. 

And  answer,  "  Let  one  living  head, 
But  one,  arise  —  we  come,  we  come !  " 
'Tis  but  the  living  who  are  dumb. 

In  vain  —  in  vain ;  strike  other  chords ; 

Fill  high  the  cup  with  Samian  wine ! 
Leave  battles  to  the  Turkish  hordes. 

And  shed  the  blood  of  Scio's  vine ! 
Hark !  rising  to  the  ignoble  call. 
How  answers  each  bold  Bacchanal ! 

You  have  the  Pyrrhic  dance  as  yet  — 
Where  is  the  Pyrrhic  phalanx  gone  ? 

Of  two  such  lessons,  why  forget 
The  nobler  and  the  manlier  one  ? 


THE   ISLES   OF   GREECE.  557 

You  liave  the  letters  Cadmus  gave  — 
Think  ye  he  meant  them  for  a  slave  ? 

rill  high  the  bowl  Avith  Samian  wine ! 

We  will  not  think  of  themes  like  these! 
It  made  Anacreon's  song  divine : 

He  served  —  but  served  Polycrates  — 
A  tyrant ;  but  our  masters  then 
Were  still  at  least  our  countrymen. 

The  tyrant  of  the  Chersonese 

Was  freedom's  best  and  bravest  friend ; 

That  tyrant  was  Miltiades ! 
Oh  !  that  the  present  hour  would  lend 

Another  despot  of  the  kind ! 

Such  claims  as  his  were  sure  to  bind. 

Fill  high  the  boAvl  with  Samian  wine ! 

On  Suli's  rock  and  Parga's  shore 
Exists  the  remnant  of  a  line 

Such  as  the  Doric  mothers  bore ; 
And  there,  perhaps,  some  seed  is  sown 
The  Heracleidan  blood  might  own. 

Trust  not  for  freedom  to  the  Franks  — 

They  have  a  king  who  buys  and  sells ; 
In  native  swords  and  native  ranks, 

The  only  hope  of  courage  dwells ; 
But  Turkish  force  and  Latin  fraud 
Would  break  your  shield,  however  broad. 

Fill  high  the  bowl  with  Samian  wine  I 
Our  virgins  dance  beneath  the  shade  — 

I  see  their  glorious  black  eyes  shine : 
But,  gazing  on  each  glowing  maid. 

My  own  the  burning  tear-drop  laves. 

To  think  such  breasts  must  suckle  slaves. 

Place  me  on  Samian's  marbled  steep  — 

Where  nothing,  save  the  waves  and  I, 
May  hear  our  mutual  murmurs  sweep: 

There,  swanlike,  let  me  sing  and  die : 
A  land  of  slaves  shall  ne'er  be  mine  — 
Dash  down  yon  cup  of  Samian  wine. 


558  SOLON. 

SOLON. 

By  PLUTARCH. 

[Plutarch  :  A  Greek  writer  of  biographies  and  miscellaneous  works ;  born 
about  A.D.  50.  He  came  of  a  wealthy  and  distinguished  family  and  received 
a  careful  philosophical  training  at  Athens  under  the  Peripatetic  philosopher 
Ammonias.  After  this  he  made  several  journeys,  and  stayed  a  considerable 
time  in  Rome,  where  he  enjoyed  friendly  intercourse  with  persons  of  distinction, 
and  conducted  the  education  of  the  future  Emperor  Hadrian.  He  died  about 
A.D.  120  in  his  native  town,  in  which  he  held  the  office  of  archon  and  priest  of  the 
Pythian  Apollo.  His  fame  as  an  author  is  founded  upon  the  celebrated  "  Parallel 
Lives,"  consisting  of  the  biographies  of  forty-six  Greeks  and  Romans,  divided 
into  pairs.  Each  pair  contains  the  life  of  a  Greek  and  a  Roman,  and  generally 
ends  with  a  comparison  of  the  two.  Plutarch's  other  writings,  more  than  sixty 
short  treatises  on  a  great  variety  of  subjects,  are  grouped  under  the  title  of 
"  Morals."] 

It  is  perfectly  possible  for  a  good  man  and  a  statesman, 
without  being  solicitous  for  superfluities,  to  show  some  concern 
for  competent  necessaries.  In  his  time,  as  Hesiod  says, — 
"  Work  was  a  shame  to  none,"  nor  was  distinction  made  with 
respect  to  trade,  but  merchandise  was  a  noble  calling,  which 
brought  home  the  good  things  which  the  barbarous  nations 
enjoyed,  was  the  occasion  of  friendship  with  their  kings,  and  a 
great  source  of  experience.  Some  merchants  have  built  great 
cities,  as  Protis,  the  founder  of  Massilia,  to  whom  the  Gauls, 
near  the  Rhone,  were  much  attached.  Some  report  also,  that 
Thales  and  Hippocrates  the  mathematician  traded  ;  and  that 
Plato  defrayed  the  charges  of  his  travels  by  selling  oil  in  Egypt. 
Solon's  softness  and  profuseness,  his  popular  rather  than  philo- 
sophical tone  about  pleasure  in  his  poems,  have  been  ascribed 
to  his  trading  life  ;  for,  having  suffered  a  thousand  dangers,  it 
was  natural  they  should  be  recompensed  with  some  gratifica- 
tions and  enjoyments ;  but  that  he  accounted  himself  rather 
poor  than  rich  is  evident  from  the  lines,  — 

Some  wicked  men  are  rich,  some  good  are  poor  — 
We  will  not  change  our  virtue  for  their  store  : 
Virtue's  a  thing  that  none  can  take  away ; 
But  money  changes  owners  all  the  day. 

At  first  he  used  his  poetry  only  in  trifles,  not  for  any  serious 
purpose,  but  simply  to  pass  away  his  idle  hours ;  but  afterwards 
he  introduced  moral  sentences  and  state  matters,  which  ha  did, 


PLUTARCH 

From  a  fare  old  print 


SOLON.  559 

not  to  record  them  merely  as  an  historian,  but  to  justify  his 
own  actions,  and  sometimes  to  correct,  chastise,  and  stir  up 
the  Athenians  to  noble  performances.  Some  report  that  he 
designed  to  put  his  laws  into  heroic  verse,  and  that  they  began 

thus,  — 

We  humbly  beg  a  blessing  on  our  laws 
From  mighty  Jove,  and  honor,  and  applause. 

In  philosophy,  as  most  of  the  wise  men  then,  he  chiefly  es- 
teemed the  political  part  of  morals  ;  in  physics,  he  was  very 
plain  and  antiquated,  as  appears  by  this, — 

It  is  the  clouds  that  make  the  snow  and  hail, 
And  thunder  comes  from  lightning  without  fail ; 
The  sea  is  stormy  when  the  winds  have  blown, 
But  it  deals  fairly  when  'tis  left  alone. 

And,  indeed,  it  is  probable  that  at  that  time  Thales  alone 
had  raised  philosophy  above  mere  practice  into  speculation; 
and  the  rest  of  the  wise  men  were  so  called  from  prudence  in 
political  concerns.  ...  It  is  stated  that  Anacharsis  and  Solon, 
and  Solon  and  Thales,  were  familiarly  acquainted,  and  some 
have  delivered  parts  of  their  discourse  ;  for,  they  say,  Ana- 
charsis, coming  to  Athens,  knocked  at  Solon's  door,  and  told 
him,  that  he,  being  a  stranger,  was  come  to  be  his  guest,  and 
contract  a  friendship  with  him;  and  Solon  replying,  "It  is 
better  to  make  friends  at  home,"  Anacharsis  replied,  "  Then 
you  that  are  at  home  make  friendship  with  me."  Solon,  some- 
what surprised  at  the  readiness  of  the  repartee,  received  him 
kindly,  and  kept  him  some  time  with  him,  being  already  en- 
gaged in  public  business  and  the  compilation  of  his  laws  ;  which, 
when  Anacharsis  understood,  he  laughed  at  him  for  imagining 
the  dishonesty  and  covetousness  of  his  countrymen  could  be 
restrained  by  written  laws,  which  were  like  spiders'  webs,  and 
would  catch,  it  is  true,  the  weak  and  poor,  but  easily  be  broken 
by  the  mighty  and  rich.  To  this  Solon  rejoined  that  men  keep 
their  promises  when  neither  side  can  get  anything  by  the  break- 
ing of  them ;  and  he  would  so  fit  his  laws  to  the  citizens,  that 
all  should  understand  it  was  more  eligible  to  be  just  than  to 
break  the  laws.  But  the  event  rather  agreed  with  the  conjec- 
ture of  Anacharsis  than  Solon's  hope.  Anacharsis,  being  once 
at  the  Assembly,  expressed  his  wonder  at  the  fact  that  in  Greece 
wise  men  spoke  and  fools  decided. 


560  SOLON. 

Solon  went,  they  say,  to  Thales,  at  Miletus,  and  wondered 
that  Thales  took  no  care  to  get  him  a  wife  and  childi-en.  To 
this,  Thales  made  no  answer  for  the  present ;  but  a  few  days 
after  procured  a  stranger  to  pretend  that  he  had  left  Athens  ten 
days  ago ;  and  Solon  inquiring  what  news  there,  the  man,  ac- 
cording to  his  instructions,  replied,  "  None  but  a  young  man's 
funeral,  which  the  whole  city  attended;  for  he  was  the  son, 
they  said,  of  an  honorable  man,  the  most  virtuous  of  the  citi- 
zens, who  was  not  then  at  home,  but  had  been  traveling  a  long 
time."  Solon  replied,  "What  a  miserable  man  is  he!  But 
what  was  his  name?"  "  I  have  heard  it,"  says  the  man,  "but 
have  now  forgotten  it,  only  there  was  a  great  talk  of  his  wis- 
dom and  his  justice."  Thus  Solon  was  drawn  on  by  every 
answer,  and  his  fears  heightened,  till  at  last,  being  extremely 
concerned,  he  mentioned  his  own  name,  and  asked  the  stranger 
if  that  young  man  was  called  Solon's  son  ;  and  the  stranger 
assenting,  he  began  to  beat  his  head,  and  to  do  and  say  all  that 
is  usual  with  men  in  transports  of  grief.  But  Thales  took  his 
hand,  and,  with  a  smile,  said,  "  These  things,  Solon,  keep  me 
from  marriage  and  rearing  children,  which  are  too  great  for 
even  your  constancy  to  support ;  however,  be  not  concerned  at 
the  report,  for  it  is  a  fiction."  This  Hermippus  relates,  from 
Pateecus,  who  boasted  that  he  had  iEsop's  soul. 

However,  it  is  irrational  and  poor-si)irited  not  to  seek  con- 
veniences for  fear  of  losing  them,  for  upon  the  same  account 
we  should  not  alloAV  ourselves  to  like  wealth,  glory,  or  wisdom, 
since  we  may  fear  to  be  deprived  of  all  these  ;  nay,  even  virtue 
itself,  than  which  there  is  no  greater  nor  more  desirable  posses- 
sion, is  often  suspended  by  sickness  or  drugs.  Now  Thales, 
though  unmarried,  could  not  be  free  from  solicitude,  unless  he 
likewise  felt  no  care  for  his  friends,  his  kinsmen,  or  his  coun- 
try;  yet  we  are  told  he  adopted  Cybisthus,  his  sister's  son. 
For  the  soul,  having  a  principle  of  kindness  in  itself,  and  being 
born  to  love,  as  well  as  perceive,  think,  or  remember,  inclines 
and  fixes  upon  some  stranger,  when  a  man  has  none  of  his  own 
to  embrace.  And  alien  or  illegitimate  objects  insinuate  them- 
selves into  his  affections,  as  into  some  estate  that  lacks  lawful 
heirs;  and  with " affection  come  anxiety  and  care;  insomucli 
that  you  may  see  men  that  use  the  strongest  language  against 
the  marriage  bed  and  the  fruit  of  it,  when  some  servant's  or 
concubine's  child  is  sick  or  dies,  almost  killed  with  grief,  and 
abjectly  lamenting.      Some  have  given  way  to  shameful  and 


SOLON.  561 

desperate  sorrow  at  the  loss  of  a  dog  or  horse;  others  have 
borne  the  death  of  virtuous  children  without  any  extravagant 
or  unbecoming  grief,  have  passed  the  rest  of  their  lives  like 
men,  and  according  to  the  principles  of  reason.  It  is  not  affec- 
tion, it  is  weakness  that  brings  men,  unarmed  against  fortune 
by  reason,  into  these  endless  pains  and  terrors ;  and  they  indeed 
have  not  even  the  present  enjoyment  of  what  they  dote  upon, 
the  possibility  of  the  future  loss  causing  them  continual  pangs, 
tremors,  and  distresses.  We  must  not  provide  against  the  loss 
of  wealth  by  poverty,  or  of  friends  by  refusing  all  acquaintance, 
or  of  children  by  having  none,  but  by  morality  and  reason. 
But  of  this  too  much. 

Now,  when  the  Athenians  were  tired  with  a  tedious  and  dif- 
ficult war  that  they  conducted  against  the  iVIegarians  for  the 
island  Salamis,  and  made  a  law  that  it  should  be  death  for  any 
man,  by  writing  or  speaking,  to  assert  that  the  city  ought  to 
endeavor  to  recover  it,  Solon,  vexed  at  the  disgrace,  and  per- 
ceiving thousands  of  the  youth  wished  for  somebody  to  begin, 
but  did  not  dare  to  stir  first  for  fear  of  the  law,  counterfeited 
a  distraction,  and  by  his  own  family  it  was  spread  about  the 
city  that  he  was  mad.  He  then  secretly  composed  some  elegiac 
verses,  and  getting  them  by  heart,  that  it  might  seem  extem- 
pore, ran  out  into  the  market  place  with  a  cap  upon  his  head, 
and,  the  people  gathering  about  him,  got  upon  the  herald's 
stand,  and  sang  that  elegy  which  begins  thus  :  — 

I  am  a  herald  come  from  Salamis  the  fair, 
My  news  from  thence  my  verses  shall  declare. 

The  poem  is  called  Salamis  ;  it  contains  an  hundred  verses 
very  elegantly  written;  when  it  had  been  sung,  his  friends 
commended  it,  and  especially  Pisistratus  exhorted  the  citizens 
to  obey  his  directions;  insomuch  that  they  recalled  the  law, 
and  renewed  the  war  under  Solon's  conduct. 

The  Megarians,  however,  still  contending,  and  both  sides 
having  received  considerable  losses,  they  chose  the  Spartans  for 
arbitrators.  Some  of  Apollo's  oracles,  where  he  calls  Salamis 
Ionian,  made  much  for  Solon.  This  matter  was  determined 
by  five  Spartans,  Critolaidas,  Amompharetus,  Hypsechidas, 
Anaxilas,  and  Cleomenes. 

For  this,  Solon  grew  famed  and  powerful ;  but  his  advice 
in  favor  of  defending  the  oracle  at  Delphi,  to  give  aid,  and  not 
to  suffer  the  Cirrhoeans  to  profane  it,  but  to  maintain  the  honor 
8 


562  SOLON. 

of  the  god,  got  him  most  repute  among  the  Greeks ;  for  upon 
his  persuasion  the  Amphictyons  undertoolc  the  war. 

Now  the  Cylonian  pollution  had  a  long  while  disturbed  the 
commonwealth,  ever  since  the  time  when  Megacles  the  archon 
persuaded  the  conspirators  with  Cjlon  that  took  sanctuary  in 
Minerva's  temple  to  come  down  and  stand  to  a  fair  trial.  And 
they,  tying  a  tliread  to  the  image,  and  holding  one  end  of  it, 
went  down  to  the  tribunal ;  but  when  they  came  to  the  temple 
of  the  Furies,  the  thread  broke  of  its  own  accord,  upon  which, 
as  if  the  goddess  had  refused  them  protection,  they  were  seized 
by  Megacles  and  the  other  magistrates;  as  many  as  were  with- 
out the  temples  were  stoned,  those  that  fled  for  sanctuary  were 
butchered  at  the  altar,  and  only  those  escaped  who  made  sup- 
plication to  the  wives  of  the  magistrates.  But  they  from  that 
time  were  considered  under  pollution,  and  regarded  with  hatred. 
The  remainder  of  the  faction  of  Cylon  grew  strong  again,  and 
had  continual  quarrels  with  the  family  of  INIegacles ;  and  now 
the  quarrel  being  at  its  height,  and  the  people  divided,  Solon, 
being  in  reputation,  interposed  with  the  chiefest  of  the  Athe- 
nians, and  by  entreaty  and  admonition  persuaded  the  polluted 
to  submit  to  a  trial  and  the  decision  of  three  hundred  noble 
citizens.  And  Myron  of  Phlya  being  their  accuser,  they  were 
found  guilty,  and  as  many  as  were  then  alive  were  banished, 
and  the  bodies  of  the  dead  were  dug  up,  and  scattered  beyond 
the  confines  of  the  country. 

In  the  midst  of  these  distractions,  the  Megarians  falling 
upon  them,  they  lost  Nissea  and  Salamis  again;  besides,  the 
city  was  disturbed  with  superstitious  fears  and  strange  appear- 
ances, and  the  priests  declared  that  the  sacrifices  intimated 
some  villainies  and  pollutions  that  were  to  be  expiated.  Upon 
this,  they  sent  for  Epimenides  the  Phsestian  from  Crete,  who 
is  counted  the  seventh  wise  man  by  those  that  will  not  admit 
Periander  into  the  number.  He  seems  to  have  been  thought 
a  favorite  of  heaven,  possessed  of  knowledge  in  all  the  super- 
natural and  ritual  parts  of  religion ;  and,  therefore,  the  men  of 
his  age  called  him  a  new  Cures,  and  son  of  a  nymph  named 
Balte.  AVhen  he  came  to  Athens,  and  grew  acquainted  with 
Solon,  he  served  him  in  many  instances,  and  prepared  the  way 
for  his  legislation.  He  made  them  moderate  in  their  forms  of 
worship,  and  abated  their  mourning  by  ordering  some  sacrifices 
presently  after  the  funeral,  and  taking  off  those  severe  and 
barbarous  ceremonies  which  the  women  usually  practiced ;  but 


SOLON".  563 

the  greatest  benefit  was  his  purifying  and  sanctifying  the  city, 
by  certain  propitiatory  and  expiatory  lustrations,  and  founda- 
tions of  sacred  buildings,  by  that  means  making  them  more 
submissive  to  justice,  and  more  inclined  to  harmony.  It  is 
reported  that,  looking  upon  Munychia,  and  considering  a  long 
while,  he  said  to  those  that  stood  by,  "How  blind  is  man  in 
future  things  !  for  did  the  Athenians  foresee  what  mischief 
this  would  do  their  city,  they  would  even  eat  it  with  their  own 
teeth  to  be  rid  of  it."  A  similar  anticipation  is  ascribed  to 
Thales ;  they  say  he  commanded  his  friends  to  bury  him  in  an 
obscure  and  contemned  quarter  of  the  territory  of  Miletus,  say- 
ing that  it  should  some  day  be  the  market  place  of  the  Mile- 
sians. Epimenides,  being  much  honored,  and  receiving  from 
the  city  rich  offers  of  large  gifts  and  privileges,  requested  but 
one  branch  of  the  sacred  olive,  and,  on  that  being  granted, 
returned. 

The  Athenians,  now  the  Cylonian  sedition  was  over  and 
the  polluted  gone  into  banishment,  fell  into  their  old  quarrels 
about  the  government,  there  being  as  many  different  parties 
as  there  were  diversities  in  the  country.  The  Hill  quarter 
favored  democracy,  the  Plain,  oligarchy,  and  those  that  lived 
by  the  Seaside  stood  for  a  mixed  sort  of  government,  and  so 
hindered  either  of  the  other  parties  from  prevailing.  And  the 
disparity  of  fortune  between  the  rich  and  the  poor  at  that 
time  also  reached  its  height ;  so  that  the  city  seemed  to  be  in 
a  truly  dangerous  condition,  and  no  other  means  for  freeing  it 
from  disturbances  and  settling  it  to  be  possible  but  a  despotic 
power.  All  the  people  were  indebted  to  the  rich  ;  and  either 
they  tilled  their  land  for  their  creditors,  paying  them  a  sixth 
part  of  the  increase,  and  were,  therefore,  called  Hectemorii  and 
Thetes,  or  else  they  engaged  their  body  for  the  debt,  and  might 
be  seized,  and  either  sent  into  slavery  at  home,  or  sold  to  stran- 
gers ;  some  (for  no  law  forbade  it)  were  forced  to  sell  their  chil- 
dren, or  fly  their  country  to  avoid  the  cruelty  of  their  creditors  ; 
but  the  most  part  and  the  bravest  of  them  began  to  combine 
together  and  encourage  one  another  to  stand  to  it,  to  choose  a 
leader,  to  liberate  the  condemned  debtors,  divide  the  land,  and 
change  the  government. 

Then  the  wisest  of  the  Athenians,  perceiving  Solon  was  of 
all  men  the  only  one  not  implicated  in  the  troubles,  that  he  had 
not  joined  in  the  exactions  of  the  rich,  and  was  not  involved  in 
the  necessities  of  the  poor,  pressed  him  to  succor  the  common- 


564  SOLON. 

Avealth  and  comj3ose  the  differences.  Though  Phanias  the  Les- 
bian affirms  that  Solon,  to  save  his  country,  put  a  trick  upon 
both  parties,  and  privately  promised  the  poor  a  division  of  the 
lands,  and  the  rich  security  for  their  debts.  Solon,  however, 
himself  says  that  it  was  reluctantly  at  first  that  he  engaged  in 
state  affairs,  being  afraid  of  the  pride  of  one  party  and  the 
greediness  of  the  other ;  he  was  chosen  archon,  however,  after 
Philombrotus,  and  empowered  to  be  an  arbitrator  and  lawgiver, 
the  rich  consenting  because  he  was  wealthy,  the  poor  because 
he  was  honest.  There  was  a  saying  of  his  current  before  the 
election,  that  when  things  are  even  there  never  can  be  war,  and 
this  pleased  both  parties,  the  wealthy  and  the  poor,  —  the  one 
conceiving  him  to  mean,  when  all  have  their  fair  proportion  ; 
the  others,  when  all  are  absolutely  equal. 

Thus,  there  being  great  hopes  on  both  sides,  the  chief  men 
pressed  Solon  to  take  the  government  into  his  own  hands,  and, 
when  he  was  once  settled,  manage  the  business  freely  and  ac- 
cording to  his  pleasure  ;  and  many  of  the  commons,  perceiving 
it  would  be  a  difficult  change  to  be  effected  by  law  and  reason, 
were  willing  to  liave  one  wise  and  just  man  set  over  the  affairs ; 
and  some  say  that  Solon  had  this  oracle  from  Apollo  — 

Take  the  mid  seat,  and  be  the  vessel's  guide ; 
Many  in  Athens  are  upon  your  side. 

But  chiefly  his  familiar  friends  chid  him  for  disaffecting  mon- 
archy only  because  of  the  name,  as  if  the  virtue  of  the  ruler 
could  not  make  it  a  lawful  form ;  Euboea  had  made  this  experi- 
ment when  it  chose  Tynnondas,  and  Mitylene,  which  had  made 
Pittacus  its  prince ;  yet  this  could  not  shake  Solon's  resolu- 
tion; but,  as  they  say,  he  replied  to  his  friends,  that  it  was 
true  a  tyranny  was  a  very  fair  spot,  but  it  had  no  way  down 
from  it ;  and  in  a  copy  of  verses  to  Phocus  he  writes  — 

—  that  I  spared  my  land, 
And  withheld  from  usurpation  and  from  violence  my  hand, 
And  forbore  to  fix  a  stain  and  a  disgrace  on  my  good  name, 
I  regret  not ;  I  believe  that  it  will  be  my  chiefest  fame. 

From  wdiich  it  is  manifest  that  he  was  a  man  of  great  reputa- 
tion before  he  gave  his  laws.  The  several  mocks  that  were 
put  upon  him  for  refusing  the  power,  he  records  in  these 
words,  — 


SOLON.  565 

Solon  surely  was  a  dreamer,  and  a  man  of  simple  mind  ; 
When  the  gods  would  give  him  fortune,  he  of  his  own  will 

declined ; 
When  the  net  was  full  of  fishes,  overheavy  thinking  it. 
He  declined  to  haul  it  up,  through  want  of  heart  and  want 

of  wit. 
Had  but  I  that  chance  of  riches  and  of  kingship,  for  one  day, 
I  would  give  my  skin  for  flaying,  a,nd  my  house  to  die  away. 

Thus  he  makes  the  many  and  the  low  people  speak  of  him. 
Yet,  though  he  refused  the  government,  he  was  not  too  mild  in 
the  affair ;  he  did  not  show  himself  mean  and  submissive  to  the 
pov<^erful,  nor  make  liis  laws  to  pleasure  those  that  chose  him. 
For  where  it  was  well  before,  he  applied  no  remedy,  nor  altered 
anything,  for  fear  lest, 

Overthrowing  altogether  and  disordering  the  state, 

he  should  be  too  weak  to  new^-model  and  recompose  it  to  a  toler- 
able condition  ;  but  what  he  thought  he  could  effect  by  persua- 
sion upon  the  pliable,  and  by  force  upon  the  stubborn,  this  he 
did,  as  he  himself  says. 

With  force  and  justice  working  both  in  one. 

And,  therefore,  when  he  was  afterwards  asked  if  he  had  left 
the  Athenians  the  best  laws  that  could  be  given,  he  repKed, 
"  The  best  they  could  receive." 

The  way  which,  the  moderns  say,  the  Athenians  have  of 
softening  the  badness  of  a  thing,  by  ingeniously  giving  it  some 
pretty  and  innocent  appellation,  —  calling  harlots,  for  example, 
mistresses,  tributes  customs,  a  garrison  a  guard,  and  the  jail  the 
chamber,  —  seems  originally  to  have  been  Solon's  contrivance, 
who  called  canceling  debts  Seisacthea,  a  relief,  or  disencum- 
brance.  For  the  first  thing  w^hich  he  settled  was  that  what 
debts  remained  should  be  forgiven,  and  no  man,  for  the  future, 
should  engage  the  body  of  his  debtor  for  security.  Though 
some,  as  Androtion,  affirm  that  the  debts  were  not  canceled, 
but  the  interest  only  lessened,  which  sufficiently  pleased  the 
people  ;  so  that  they  named  this  benefit  the  Seisacthea,  together 
wdth  the  enlarging  their  measures,  and  raising  the  value  of 
their  money ;  for  he  made  a  pound,  which  before  passed  for 
seventy-three  drachmas,  go  for  a  hundred;  so  that,  though  the 
number  of  pieces  in  the  payment  was  equal,  the  value  w^as  less; 


566  SOLON. 

which  proved  a  considerable  benefit  to  those  that  were  to  dis- 
charge great  debts,  and  no  loss  to  the  creditors.  But  most 
agree  that  it  was  the  taking  off  the  debts  that  was  called 
Seisacthea,  which  is  confirmed  by  some  places  in  his  poem, 
where  he  takes  honor  to  himself,  that 

The  mortgage  stones  that  covered  her,  by  me 
Eemoved,  —  the  land  that  was  a  slave  is  free ; 

that  some  who  had  been  seized  for  their  debts  he  had  brought 
back  from  other  countries,  where 

—  so  far  their  lot  to  roam, 
They  had  forgot  the  language  of  their  home ; 

and  some  he  had  set  at  liberty, 

Who  here  in  shameful  servitude  were  held. 

While  he  was  designing  this,  a  most  vexatious  thing  hap- 
pened; for  when  he  had  resolved  to  take  off  the  debts,  and 
was  considering  the  proper  form  and  fit  beginning  for  it,  he 
told  some  of  his  friends,  Conon,  Clinias,  and  Hipponicus,  in 
whom  he  had  a  great  deal  of  confidence,  that  he  would  not 
meddle  with  the  lands,  but  only  free  the  people  from  their 
debts ;  upon  which  they,  using  their  advantage,  made  haste  and 
borrowed  some  considerable  sums  of  money,  and  purchased 
some  large  farms ;  and  when  the  law  was  enacted,  they  kept 
the  possessions,  and  would  not  return  the  money;  which 
brought  Solon  into  great  suspicion  and  dislike,  as  if  he  himself 
had  not  been  abused,  but  was  concerned  in  the  contrivance. 
But  he  presently  stopped  this  suspicion,  by  releasing  his  debtors 
of  five  talents  (for  he  had  lent  so  much),  according  to  the  law ; 
others,  as  Polyzelus  the  Rhodian,  say  fifteen ;  his  friends,  how- 
ever, were  ever  afterward  called  Chreocopidoe,  repudiators. 

In  this  he  pieased  neither  party,  for  the  rich  were  angry  for 
their  money,  and  the  poor  that  the  land  was  not  divided,  and, 
as  Lycurgus  ordered  in  his  commonwealth,  all  men  reduced  to 
equality.  He,  it  is  true,  being  the  eleventh  from  Hercules,  and 
having  reigned  many  years  in  Lacedfemon,  had  got  a  great 
reputation  and  friends  and  power,  which  he  could  use  in  model- 
ing his  state ;  and  applying  force  more  than  persuasion,  inso- 
much that  he  lost  his  eye  in  the  scuffle,  was  able  to  employ  the 
most  effectual  means  for  the  safety  and  harmony  of  a  state,  by 
not  permitting  any  to  be  poor  or  rich  in  his  commonwealth. 


SOLON.  567 

Solon  could  not  rise  to  that  in  his  polity,  being  but  a  citizen  of 
the  middle  classes  ;  yet  he  acted  fully  up  to  the  height  of  his 
power,  having  nothing  but  the  good  will  and  good  opinion  of 
his  citizens  to  rely  on  ;  and  that  he  offended  the  most  part,  who 
looked  for  another  result,  he  declares  in  the  words  — 

Formerly  they  boasted  of  me  vainly ;  with  averted  eyes 

Now  they  look  askance  upon  me ;  friends  no  more,  but  enemies. 

And  yet  had  any  other  man,  he  says,  received  the  same  power. 

He  would  not  have  forborne,  nor  let  alone, 
But  made  the  fattest  of  the  milk  his  own. 

Soon,  however,  becoming  sensible  of  the  good  that  was  done, 
they  laid  by  their  grudges,  made  a  public  sacrifice,  calling  it 
Seisacthea,  and  chose  Solon  to  new-model  and  make  laws  for 
the  commonwealth,  giving  him  the  entire  power  over  every- 
tliing,  their  magistracies,  their  assemblies,  courts,  and  councils; 
that  he  should  appoint  the  number,  times  of  meeting,  and  what 
estate  they  must  have  that  could  be  capable  of  these,  and  dis- 
solve or  continue  any  of  the  present  constitutions,  according  to 
his  pleasure. 

First,  then,  he  repealed  all  Draco's  laws,  except  those  con- 
cerning homicide,  because  they  were  too  severe,  and  the  pun- 
ishments too  great ;  for  death  was  appointed  for  almost  all 
offenses,  insomuch  that  those  that  were  convicted  of  idleness 
were  to  die,  and  those  that  stole  a  cabbage  or  an  apple  to  suffer 
even  as  villains  that  committed  sacrilege  or  murder.  So  that 
Demades,  in  after  time,  was  thought  to  have  said  very  happily, 
that  Draco's  laws  were  written  not  with  ink  but  blood;  and  he 
himself,  being  once  asked  why  he  made  death  the  punishment 
of  most  offenses,  replied,  "  Small  ones  deserve  that,  and  I  have 
no  higher  for  the  greater  crimes." 

Next,  Solon,  being  willing  to  continue  the  magistracies  in 
the  hands  of  the  rich  men,  and  yet  receive  the  peoj^le  into  the 
other  part  of  the  government,  took  an  account  of  the  citizens' 
estates,  and  those  that  were  worth  five  hundred  measures  of 
fruit,  dry  and  liquid,  he  placed  in  the  first  rank,  calling  them 
Pentacosiomedimni ;  those  that  could  keep  a  horse,  or  were 
worth  three  hundred  measures,  were  named  Hippada  Teluntes, 
and  made  the  second  class  ;  the  Zeugitge,  that  had  two  hundred 
measures,  were  in  the  third  ;  and  all  the  others  were  called 


668  SOLON. 

Thetes,  who  were  not  admitted  to  any  office,  but  could  come 
to  the  assembly,  aud  act  as  jurors ;  which  at  first  seemed 
nothing,  but  afterwards  was  found  an  enormous  privilege,  as 
almost  every  matter  of  dispute  came  before  them  in  this  latter 
capacity.  Even  in  the  cases  which  he  assigned  to  the  archon's 
cognizance,  he  allowed  an  appeal  to  the  courts.  Besides,  it  is 
said  that  he  was  obscure  and  ambiguous  in  the  wording  of  his 
laws,  on  purpose  to  increase  the  honor  of  his  courts ;  for  since 
their  differences  could  not  be  adjusted  by  the  letter,  they  would 
have  to  bring  all  their  causes  to  the  judges,  who  thus  were  in  a 
manner  masters  of  the  laws.  Of  this  equalization  he  himself 
makes  mention  in  this  manner  : — 

Such  power  I  gave  the  people  as  might  do, 
Abridged  not  what  they  had,  now  lavished  new, 
Those  that  were  great  in  wealth  and  high  in  place 
My  counsel  likewise  kept  from  all  disgrace. 
Before  them  both  I  held  my  shield  of  might, 
And  let  not  either  touch  the  other's  right. 

And  for  the  greater  security  of  the  weak  commons,  he  gave 
general  liberty  of  indicting  for  an  act  of  injury ;  if  any  one 
was  beaten,  maimed,  or  suffered  any  violence,  any  man  that 
would  and  was  able  might  prosecute  the  wrongdoer ;  intending 
by  this  to  accustom  the  citizens,  like  members  of  the  same  body, 
to  resent  and  be  sensible  of  one  another's  injuries.  And  there 
is  a  saying  of  his  agreeable  to  his  law,  for,  being  asked  what 
city  was  best  modeled,  "  That,"  said  he,  "  where  those  that  are 
not  injured  try  and  punish  the  unjust  as  much  as  those  that 
are." 

When  he  had  constituted  the  Areopagus  of  those  who  had 
been  yearly  archons,  of  which  he  himself  was  a  member  there- 
fore, observing  that  the  people,  nov/  free  from  their  debts,  were 
unsettled  and  imperious,  lie  formed  another  council  of  four 
hundred,  a  hundred  out  of  each  of  the  four  tribes,  which  was 
to  inspect  all  matters  before  they  were  propounded  to  the 
people,  and  to  take  care  that  nothing  but  what  had  been  first 
examined  should  be  brought  before  the  general  assembly.  The 
upper  council,  or  Areopagus,  he  made  inspectors  and  keepers 
of  the  laws,  conceiving  that  the  commonwealth,  held  by  these 
two  councils,  like  anchors,  would  be  less  liable  to  be  tossed  by 
tumults,  and  the  people  be  more  quiet.  Such  is  the  general 
statement,  that  Solon  instituted  the  Areopagus ;  which  seems 


SOLON.  569 

to  be  confirmed,  because  Draco  makes  no  mention  of  the  Areop- 
agites,  but  in  all  causes  of  blood  refers  to  the  Epheta) ;  yet 
Solon's  thirteenth  table  contains  the  eighth  law  set  down  in 
these  very  words :  "  Whoever  before  Solon's  archonship  were 
disfranchised,  let  them  be  restored,  except  those  that,  being 
condemned  by  the  Areopagus,  Ephetse,  or  in  the  Prytaneum  by 
the  kings,  for  homicide,  murder,  or  designs  against  the  govern- 
ment, were  in  banishment  when  this  law  was  made ;  "  and  these 
words  seem  to  show  that  the  Areopagus  existed  before  Solon's 
laws,  for  who  could  be  condemned  by  that  council  before  his 
time,  if  he  was  the  first  that  instituted  the  court  ?  unless,  which 
is  probable,  there  is  some  ellipsis,  or  want  of  precision  in  the 
language,  and  it  should  run  thus :  "  Those  that  are  convicted 
of  such  offenses  as  belong  to  the  cognizance  of  the  Areopagites, 
Ephetse,  or  the  Prytanes,  when  this  law  was  made,"  shall  remain 
still  in  disgrace,  whilst  others  are  restored ;  of  this  the  reader 
must  judge. 

Amongst  his  other  laws,  one  is  very  peculiar  and  surprising, 
which  disfranchises  all  who  stand  neuter  in  a  sedition  ;  for  it 
seems  he  w^ould  not  have  any  one  remain  insensible  and  regard- 
less of  the  public  good,  and,  securing  his  private  affairs,  glory 
that  he  has  no  feeling  of  the  distempers  of  his  country  ;  but  at 
once  join  with  the  good  party  and  those  that  have  the  right 
upon  their  side,  assist  and  venture  \^dth  them,  rather  than  keep 
out  of  harm's  way  and  watch  who  would  get  the  better.  It 
seems  an  absurd  and  foolish  law  which  permits  an  heiress,  if 
her  lawful  husband  fail  her,  to  take  his  nearest  kinsman  ;  yet 
some  say  this  law  was  well  contrived  against  those  who,  con- 
scious of  their  own  unfitness,  yet,  for  the  sake  of  the  portion, 
would  match  with  heiresses,  and  make  use  of  law  to  put  a  vio- 
lence upon  nature  ;  for  now,  since  she  can  quit  him  for  whom 
she  pleases,  they  would  either  abstain  from  such  marriages,  or 
continue  them  with  disgrace,  and  suffer  for  their  covetousness 
and  designed  affront ;  it  is  well  done,  moreover,  to  confine  her 
to  her  husband's  nearest  kinsman,  that  the  children  may  be  of 
the  same  family.  Agreeable  to  this  is  the  law  that  the  bride 
and  bridegroom  shall  be  shut  into  a  chamber,  and  eat  a  quince 
together ;  and  that  the  husband  of  an  heiress  shall  consort  with 
her  thrice  a  month  :  for  though  there  be  no  children,  yet  it  is 
an  honor  and  due  affection  which  an  husband  ought  to  pay  to  a 
virtuous,  chaste  wife ;  it  takes  off  all  petty  differences,  and  will 
not  permit  their  little  quarrels  to  proceed  to  a  rupture. 


570  SOLON. 

In  all  other  marriages  lie  forbade  dowries  to  be  given  ;  the 
wife  was  to  have  three  suits  of  clothes,  a  little  inconsiderable 
household  stuff,  and  that  was  all ;  for  he  would  not  have  mar- 
riages contracted  for  gain  or  an  estate,  but  for  pure  love,  kind 
affection,  and  birth  of  children.  When  the  mother  of  Dionysus 
desired  him  to  marry  her  to  one  of  his  citizens,  "  Indeed,"  said 
he,  "by  my  tyranny  I  have  broken  my  country's  laws,  but 
cannot  put  a  violence  upon  those  of  nature  by  an  unseasonable 
marriage."  Such  disorder  is  never  to  be  suffered  in  a  common- 
wealth, nor  such  unseasonable  and  unloving  and  un performing 
marriages,  which  attain  no  due  end  or  fruit ;  any  provident 
governor  or  lawgiver  might  say  to  an  old  man  that  takes  a 
young  wife  what  is  said  to  Philoctetes  in  the  tragedy, — 

Truly,  iu  a  fit  state  thou  to  marry ! 

and  if  he  find  a  young  man,  with  a  rich  and  elderly  wife,  grow- 
ing fat  in  his  j)lace,  like  the  partridges,  remove  him  to  a  young 
woman  of  proper  age.     And  of  this  enough. 

Another  commendable  law  of  Solon's  is  that  which  forbids 
men  to  speak  evil  of  the  dead  ;  for  it  is  pious  to  think  the 
deceased  sacred,  and  just,  not  to  meddle  with  those  that  are 
gone,  and  politic,  to  prevent  the  perpetuity  of  discord.  He 
likewise  forbade  them  to  speak  evil  of  the  living  in  the  temples, 
the  courts  of  justice,  the  public  offices,  or  at  the  games,  or  else 
to  pay  three  drachmas  to  the  person,  and  two  to  the  public. 
For  never  to  be  able  to  control  passion  shows  a  weak  nature 
and  ill  breeding  ;  and  always  to  moderate  it  is  very  hard,  and 
to  some  impossible.  And  laws  must  look  to  possibilities,  if  the 
maker  designs  to  punish  few  in  order  to  their  amendment,  and 
not  many  to  no  purpose. 

He  is  likewise  much  commended  for  his  law  concerning 
wills ;  for  before  him  none  could  be  made,  but  all  the  wealth 
and  estate  of  the  deceased  belonged  to  his  family ;  but  he  by 
permitting  them,  if  they  had  no  children,  to  bestow  it  on  whom 
they  pleased,  showed  that  he  esteemed  friendship  a  stronger  tie 
than  kindred,  and  affection  than  necessity ;  and  made  every 
man's  estate  truly  his  own.  Yet  he  allowed  not  all  sorts  of 
legacies,  but  those  only  which  were  not  extorted  by  the  frenzy 
of  a  disease,  charms,  imprisonment,  force,  or  the  persuasions  of 
a  wife,  —  with  good  reason  thinking  that  being  seduced  into 
wrong  was  as  bad  as  being  forced,  and  that  between  deceit  and 


SOLON.  571 

necessity,  flattery  and  compulsion,  there  was  little  difference, 
since  both  may  equally  suspend  the  exercise  of  reason. 

He  regulated  the  walks,  feasts,  and  mourning  of  the  women, 
and  took  away  everything  that  was  either  unbecoming  or 
immodest ;  when  they  walked  abroad,  no  more  than  three 
articles  of  dress  were  allowed  them  ;  an  obol's  worth  of  meat 
and  drink ;  and  no  basket  above  a  cubit  high ;  and  at  night 
they  were  not  to  go  about  unless  in  a  chariot  with  a  torch 
before  them.  Mourners  tearing  themselves  to  raise  pity,  and 
set  wailings,  and  at  one  man's  funeral  to  lament  for  another, 
he  forbade.  To  offer  an  ox  at  the  grave  was  not  permitted, 
nor  to  bury  above  three  pieces  of  dress  with  the  body,  or  visit 
the  tombs  of  any  besides  their  own  family,  unless  at  the  very 
funeral ;  most  of  which  are  likewise  forbidden  by  our  laws,  but 
this  is  further  added  in  ours,  that  those  that  are  convicted  of 
extravagance  in  their  mournings  are  to  be  punished  as  soft  and 
effeminate  by  the  censors  of  women. 

Observing  the  city  to  be  filled  with  persons  that  flocked 
from  all  parts  into  Attica  for  security  of  living,  and  that  most 
of  the  country  was  barren  and  unfruitful,  and  that  traders  at 
sea  imported  notliing  to  those  that  could  give  them  nothing  in 
exchange,  he  turned  his  citizens  to  trade,  and  made  a  law  that 
no  son  be  obliged  to  relieve  a  father  who  had  not  bred  him  up 
to  any  calling.  It  is  true,  Lycurgus,  having  a  city  free  from 
all  strangers,  and  land,  according  to  Euripides, 

Large  for  large  hosts,  for  twice  their  number  much, 

and,  above  all,  an  abundance  of  laborers  about  Sparta,  who 
should  not  be  left  idle,  but  be  kept  down  with  continual  toil 
and  work,  did  well  to  take  off  his  citizens  from  laborious  and 
mechanical  occupations,  and  keep  them  to  their  arms,  and  teach 
them  only  the  art  of  war.  But  Solon,  fitting  his  laws  to  the 
state  of  things,  and  not  making  things  to  suit  his  laws,  and 
finding  the  ground  scarce  rich  enough  to  maintain  the  husband- 
men, and  altogether  incapable  of  feeding  an  unoccupied  and 
leisured  multitude,  brought  trades  into  credit,  and  ordered  the 
Areopagites  to  examine  how  every  man  got  his  living,  and  chas- 
tise the  idle.  But  that  law  was  yet  more  rigid  which,  as  Hera- 
clides  Ponticus  delivers,  declared  the  sons  of  unmarried  mothers 
not  obliged  to  relieve  their  fathers  ;  for  he  that  avoids  the 
honorable  form  of  union  shows  that  he  does  not  take  a  woman 
for  children,  but  for  pleasure,  and  thus  gets  his  just  reward, 


572  SOLON. 

and  has  taken  away  from  himself  every  title  to  upbraid  his 
children,  to  whom  he  has  made  their  very  birth  a  scandal  and 
reproach. 

Since  the  country  has  but  few  rivers,  lakes,  or  large  springs, 
and  many  used  wells  which  they  liad  dug,  there  was  a  law 
made,  that,  where  there  was  a  public  well  within  a  hippicon, 
that  is,  four  furlongs,  all  should  draw  at  that ;  but  when  it  was 
farther  off,  they  should  try  and  procure  a  well  of  their  own  ; 
and  if  they  had  dug  ten  fathoms  deep  and  could  find  no  water, 
they  had  liberty  to  fetch  a  pitcherful  of  four  gallons  and  a  half 
in  a  day  from  their  neighbors'  ;  for  he  thought  it  prudent  to 
make  provision  against  want,  but  not  to  supply  laziness.  He 
showed  skill  in  his  orders  about  planting,  for  any  one  that 
v,^ould  plant  another  tree  was  not  to  set  it  within  five  feet  of 
his  neighbor's  field  ;  but  if  a  fig  or  an  olive,  not  within  nine  ; 
for  their  roots  spread  farther,  nor  can  they  be  planted  near  all 
sorts  of  trees  without  damage,  for  they  draw  away  the  nourish- 
ment, and  in  some  cases  are  noxious  by  their  effluvia.  He  that 
v/ould  dig  a  pit  or  a  ditch  was  to  dig  it  at  the  distance  of  its 
own  depth  from  his  neighbor's  ground ;  and  he  that  would 
raise  stocks  of  bees  was  not  to  place  them  within  three  hundred 
feet  of  those  which  another  had  already  raised. 

He  permitted  only  oil  to  be  exported,  and  those  that  ex- 
ported any  other  fruit,  the  archon  was  solemnly  to  curse,  or 
else  pay  an  hundred  drachmas  himself;  and  this  law  was 
written  in  his  first  table,  and,  therefore,  let  none  think  it  in- 
credible, as  some  affirm,  that  the  exportation  of  figs  was  once 
unlawful,  and  the  informer  against  the  delinquents  called  a 
sycophant.  He  made  a  law,  also,  concerning  hurts  and  in- 
juries from  beasts,  in  which  he  commands  the  master  of  any 
dog  that  bit  a  man  to  deliver  him  up  with  a  log  about  his  neck, 
four  and  a  half  feet  long ;  a  happy  device  for  men's  security. 
The  law  concerning  naturalizing  strangers  is  of  doubtful  char- 
acter ;  he  permitted  only  those  to  be  made  free  of  Athens  who 
were  in  perpetual  exile  from  their  own  country,  or  came  with 
their  whole  family  to  trade  there  ;  this  he  did,  not  to  discourage 
strangers,  but  rather  to  invite  them  to  a  permanent  participation 
in  the  privileges  of  the  government ;  and,  besides,  he  thought 
those  would  prove  the  more  faithful  citizens  who  had  been 
forced  from  their  ov>^n  country,  or  voluntarily  forsook  it.  The 
law  of  public  entertainment  (parasitein  is  his  name  for  it)  is 
also  peculiarly  Solon's  ;   for  if  any  man  came  often,  or  if  he 


SOLON.  573 

that  was  invited  refused,  tliey  were  punished,  for  he  concluded 
that  one  was  greedy,  the  other  a  contemner  of  the  state. 

All  his  laws  he  established  for  an  hundred  years,  and  wrote 
them  on  wooden  tables  or  rollers,  named  axones,  which  might 
be  turned  round  in  oblong  cases  ;  some  of  their  relics  were  in 
my  time  still  to  be  seen  in  the  Prytaneum,  or  common  hall,  at 
Athens.  These,  as  Aristotle  states,  were  called  cyrbes,  and 
there  is  a  passage  of  Cratinus  the  comedian,  — 

By  Solon,  and  by  Draco,  if  you  please, 

Whose  Cyrbes  make  the  fires  that  parch  our  peas. 

But  some  say  those  are  properly  cyrbes,  which  contain  laws  con- 
cerning sacrifices  and  the  rites  of  religion,  and  all  the  others 
axones.  The  council  all  jointly  swore  to  confirm  the  laws,  and 
every  one  of  the  Thesmothetse  vowed  for  himself  at  the  stone  in 
the  market  place,  that  if  he  broke  any  of  the  statutes,  he  would 
dedicate  a  golden  statue,  as  big  as  himself,  at  Delphi. 

Observing  the  irregularity  of  the  months,  and  that  the  moon 
does  not  always  rise  and  set  with  the  sun,  but  often  in  the  same 
day  overtakes  and  gets  before  him,  he  ordered  the  day  should 
be  named  the  Old  and  New,  attributing  that  part  of  it  which 
was  before  the  conjunction  to  the  old  moon,  and  the  rest  to  the 
new,  he  being  the  first,  it  seems,  that  understood  that  verse  of 
Homer,  — 

The  end  and  the  beginning  of  the  month,  — 

and  the  following  day  he  called  the  new  moon.  After  the 
twentieth  he  did  not  count  by  addition,  but,  like  the  moon 
itself  in  its  wane,  by  subtraction;  thus  up  to  the  thirtieth. 
When  Solon  was  gone,  the  citizens  began  to  quarrel ; 
Lycurgus  headed  the  Plain  ;  Megacles,  the  son  of  Alcmseon, 
those  to  the  Seaside ;  and  Pisistratus  the  Hill  party,  in  which 
were  the  poorest  people,  the  Thetes,  and  greatest  enemies  to 
the  rich  ;  insomuch  that,  though  the  city  still  used  the  new 
laws,  yet  all  looked  for  and  desired  a  change  of  government, 
hoping  severally  that  the  change  would  be  better  for  them,  and 
put  them  above  the  contrary  faction.  Affairs  standing  thus, 
Solon  returned,  and  was  reverenced  by  all,  and  honored  ;  but 
his  old  age  would  not  permit  him  to  be  as  active,  and  to  speak 
in  public,  as  formerly;  yet,  by  privately  conferring  with  the 
heads  of  the  factions,  he  endeavored  to  compose  the  differences. 


574  SOLON. 

Pisistratus  appearing  the  most  tractable  ;  for  he  was  extremely 
smooth  and  engaging  in  his  language,  a  great  friend  to  the 
poor,  and  moderate  in  his  resentments ;  and  what  nature  had 
not  o>iven  him,  he  had  the  skill  to  imitate  ;  so  that  he  was 
trusted  more  than  the  others,  being  accounted  a  prudent  and 
orderly  man,  one  that  loved  equality,  and  would  be  an  enemy 
to  any  that  moved  against  the  present  settlement.  Thus  he 
deceived  the  majority  of  people  ;  but  Solon  quickly  discovered 
his  character,  and  found  out  his  design  before  any  one  else ; 
yet  did  not  hate  him  upon  this,  but  endeavored  to  humble  him, 
and  bring  him  off  from  his  ambition,  and  often  told  him  and 
others,  that  if  any  one  could  banish  the  passion  for  preemi- 
nence from  his  mind,  and  cure  him  of  his  desire  of  absolute 
power,  none  would  make  a  more  virtuous  man  or  a  more 
excellent  citizen. 

Thespis,  at  this  time,  beginning  to  act  tragedies,  and  the 
thing,  because  it  was  new,  taking  very  much  with  the  multi- 
tude, though  it  was  not  yet  made  a  matter  of  competition, 
Solon,  being  by  nature  fond  of  hearing  and  learning  something 
new,  and  now,  in  his  old  age,  living  idly,  and  enjoying  himself, 
indeed,  with  music  and  with  wine,  went  to  see  Thespis  himself, 
as  the  ancient  custom  was,  act :  and  after  the  play  was  done,  he 
addressed  him,  and  asked  him  if  he  was  not  ashamed  to  tell  so 
many  lies  before  such  a  number  of  people  ;  and  Thespis  reply- 
ing that  it  was  no  harm  to  say  or  do  so  in  play,  Solon  vehe- 
mently struck  his  staff  against  the  ground  :  "Ah,"  said  he,  "if 
we  honor  and  commend  such  play  as  this,  we  shall  find  it  some 
day  in  our  business." 

Now  when  Pisistratus,  having  wounded  himself,  was  brought 
into  the  market  place  in  a  chariot,  and  stirred  up  the  people,  as 
if  he  had  been  thus  treated  by  his  opponents  because  of  his 
political  conduct,  and  a  great  many  were  enraged  and  cried 
out,  Solon,  coming  close  to  him,  said,  "  This,  O  son  of  Hippoc- 
rates, is  a  bad  copy  of  Homer's  Ulysses ;  you  do,  to  trick  your 
countrymen,  what  he  did  to  deceive  his  enemies."  After^  this, 
the  people  were  eager  to  protect  Pisistratus,  and  met  in  an 
assembly,  where  one  Ariston  making  a  motion  that  they  should 
allow  Pisistratus  fifty  clubmen  for  a  guard  to  his  person,  Solon 
opposed  it,  and  said  much  to  the  same  purport  as  what  he  has 
left  us  in  his  poems, — 

You  dote  upon  his  words  and  taking  phrase ; 


SOLON.  675 

and  again,  — 

True,  you  are  singly  each  a  crafty  soul, 
But  all  together  make  oue  empty  fool. 

But  observing  the  poor  men  bent  to  gratify  Pisistratus,  and 
tumultuous,  and  the  rich  fearful  and  getting  out  of  harm's 
way,  he  departed,  saying  he  was  wiser  than  some  and  stouter 
than  others  ;  wiser  than  those  that  did  not  understand  the 
design,  stouter  than  those  that,  though  they  understood  it, 
were  afraid  to  oppose  the  tyranny. 

Now,  the  people,  having  passed  the  law,  were  not  nice  with 
Pisistratus  about  the  number  of  his  clubmen,  but  took  no  notice 
of  it,  though  he  enlisted  and  kept  as  maiiy  as  he  would,  until  he 
seized  the  Acropolis.  When  that  was  done,  and  the  city  in  an 
uproar,  Megacles,  with  all  his  family,  at  once  fled ;  but  Solon, 
though  he  was  now  very  old,  and  had  none  to  back  him,  yet 
came  into  the  market  place  and  made  a  speech  to  the  citizens, 
partly  blaming  their  inadvertency  and  meanness  of  spirit,  and 
in  part  urging  and  exhorting  them  not  thus  tamely  to  lose  their 
liberty ;  and  likewise  then  spoke  that  memorable  saying,  that, 
before,  it  was  an  easier  task  to  stop  the  rising  tyranny,  but  now 
the  greater  and  more  glorious  action  to  destroy  it,  when  it  was 
begun  already,  and  had  gathered  strength.  But  all  being  afraid 
to  side  with  him,  he  returned  home,  and,  taking  his  arms,  he 
brought  them  out  and  laid  them  in  the  porch  before  his  door, 
with  these  words  :  "  I  have  done  my  part  to  maintain  my 
country  and  my  laws,"  and  then  he  busied  himself  no  more. 
His  friends  advising  him  to  fly,  he  refused,  but  wrote  poems, 
and  thus  reproached  the  Athenians  in  them,  — 

If  now  you  suffer,  do  not  blame  the  Powers, 
For  they  are  good,  and  all  the  fault  was  ours. 
All  the  strongholds  you  jDut  into  his  hands, 
And  now  his  slaves  must  do  what  he  commands. 

And  many  telling  him  that  the  tyrant  would  take  his  life  for 
this,  and  asking  what  he  trusted  to,  that  he  ventured  to  speak 
so  boldly,  he  replied,  "To  my  old  age." 

But  Pisistratus,  having  got  the  command,  so  extremely 
courted  Solon,  so  honored  him,  obliged  him,  and  sent  to  see 
him,  that  Solon  gave  him  his  advice,  and  approved  many  of  his 
actions  ;  for  he  retained  most  of  Solon's  laws,  observed  them 
himself,  and  compelled  his  friends  to  obey.     And  he  himself, 


576  ARETIIUSA. 

though  already  absolute  ruler,  being  accused  of  murder  before 
the  Areopagus,  came  quietly  to  clear  himself  ;  but  his  accuser 
did  not  appear.  And  he  added  other  laws,  one  of  which  is  that 
the  maimed  in  the  wars  should  be  maintained  at  the  public  charge. 
Solon  lived  after  Pisistratus  seized  the  government,  as  Hera- 
clides  Ponticus  asserts,  a  long  time  ;  but  Phanias  the  Eresian 
says  not  two  full  years  ;  for  Pisistratus  began  his  tyranny 
when  Comias  was  archon,  and  Phanias  says  Solon  died  under 
Hegestratus,  who  succeeded  Comias.  The  story  that  his  aslies 
were  scattered  about  the  island  Salamis  is  too  strange  to  be 
easily  believed,  or  be  thought  anything  but  a  mere  fable  ;  and 
yet  it  is  given,  amongst  other  good  authors,  by  Aristotle,  the 
philosopher. 


ARETHUSA. 

By  PERCY  BYSSHE  SHELLEY. 


Arethusa  arose 

Prom  her  couch  of  snows 
In  the  Acroceraunian  mountains.  — 

Prom  cloud  and  from  crag, 

With  many  a  jag, 
Shepherding  her  bright  fountains. 

She  leapt  down  the  rocks, 

With  her  rainbow  locks 
Streaming  among  the  streams;  — 

Her  steps  paved  with  green 

The  downward  ravine 
Which  slopes  to  the  western  gleams 

And  gliding  and  springing 

She  went,  ever  singing, 
In  murmurs  as  soft  as  sleep ; 

The  earth  seemed  to  love  her. 

And  Heaven  smiled  above  her, 
As  she  lingered  towards  the  deep. 


Then  Alpheus  bold, 
On  his  glacier  cold, 
With  his  trident  the  mountains  strook 


ARETHUSA.  577 

And  opened  a  chasm 

In  the  rocks ;  —  with  the  spasm 
All  Erymanthus  shook. 

And  the  black  south  wind 

It  concealed  behind 
The  urns  of  the  silent  snow, 

And  earthquake  and  thunder 

Did  rend  in  sunder 
The  bars  of  the  springs  below ; 

The  beard  and  the  hair 

Of  the  Eiver  God  were 
Seen  thro'  the  torrent's  sweep, 

As  he  followed  the  light 

Of  the  fleet  nymph's  flight 
To  the  brink  of  the  Dorian  deep. 

III. 

"  Oh,  save  me !   Oh,  guide  me ! 

And  bid  the  deep  hide  me, 
For  he  grasps  me  now  by  the  hair !  " 

The  loud  Ocean  heard, 

To  its  blue  depths  stirred, 
And  divided  at  her  prayer ; 

And  under  the  water 

The  Earth's  white  daughter 
Eled  like  a  sunny  beam  ; 

Behind  her  descended 

Her  billows,  unblended 
With  the  brackish  Dorian  stream :  — 

Like  a  gloomy  stain 

On  the  emerald  main 
Alpheus  rushed  behind,  — 

As  an  eagle  pursuing 

A  dove  to  its  ruin 
Down  the  streams  of  the  cloudy  wind. 

IV. 

Under  the  bowers 

Where  the  Ocean  Powers 
Sit  on  their  pearled  thrones, 

Thro'  the  coral  woods 

Of  the  weltering  floods. 
Over  heaps  of  unvalued  stones ; 

Thro'  the  dim  beams 

Which  amid  the  streams 


578  AN  ANCIENT  GULLIVER. 

Weave  a  network  of  colored  light ; 
And  under  the  caves, 
Where  the  shadowy  waves 

Are  as  green  as  the  forest's  night :  • 
Outspeeding  the  shark, 
And  the  swordfish  dark, 

Under  the  ocean  foam, 
And  up  thro'  the  rifts 
Of  the  mountain  clifts 

They  past  to  their  Dorian  home. 


And  now  from  their  fountains 

In  Enna's  mountains, 
Down  one  vale  where  the  morning  basks 

Like  friends  once  parted 

Grown  single-hearted, 
They  ply  their  watery  tasks. 

At  sunrise  they  leap 

From  their  cradles  steep 
In  the  cave  of  the  shelving  hill ; 

At  noontide  they  flow 

Through  the  woods  below 
And  the  meadows  of  asphodel ; 

And  at  night  they  sleep 

In  the  rocking  deep 
Beneath  the  Ortygian  shore ;  — 

Like  spirits  that  lie 

In  the  azure  sky 
When  they  love  but  live  no  more. 

AN   ANCIENT   GULLIVER. 

(From  "The  True  History,"  by  Lucian  of  Samosata.) 

[LuciAN,  one  of  the  foremost  humorists  and  men  of  letters  of  all  time,  was 
born  in  Asia  Minor  during  Trajan's  reign.  He  studied  for  a  sculptor,  but  linally 
went  to  Antioch  and  devoted  himself  to  literature  and  oratory.  He  died  in 
extreme  old  age.  His  works,  written  in  Greek,  are  largely  satirical  burlesques 
on  pagan  philosophy  and  mythology  and  on  the  literature  of  his  day,  with  some 
stories.] 

Ctesias  wrote  an  account  of  India,  in  which  he  records 
matters  which  he   neither   saw  himself,  nor   heard   from   the 


AN  ANCIENT  GULLIVER.  579 

mouth  of  any  creature  in  the  world.  So  likewise  a  certain 
Jambulus  wrote  many  incredible  wonders  of  the  great  sea,  that 
are  too  palpably  untrue  for  any  one  to  suppose  they  are  not  of 
his  own  invention,  though  they  are  very  entertaining  to  read. 
Many  others  have  in  the  same  spirit  written  pretended  voyages 
and  occasional  peregrinations  in  unknown  regions,  wherein  they 
give  us  incredible  accounts  of  prodigiously  huge  animals,  wild 
men,  and  strange  and  uncouth  manners  and  habits  of  life. 
Their  great  leader  and  master  in  this  fantastical  way  of  im- 
posing upon  people  was  the  famous  Homeric  Ulysses,  who  tells 
a  long  tale  to  Alcinous  and  his  silly  Phoeacians  about  King 
^olus  and  the  Avinds,  who  are  his  slaves,  and  about  one-eyed 
men-eaters  and  other  the  like  savages ;  talks  of  many-headed 
beasts,  of  the  transformation  of  his  companions  into  brutes,  and  a 
number  of  other  fooleries  of  a  like  nature.  For  my  part  I  was 
the  less  displeased  at  all  the  falsehoods,  great  and  numerous  as 
they  were,  of  these  honest  folks,  when  I  saw  that  even  men 
Avho  pretend  that  they  only  philosophize,  act  not  a  hair  better  ; 
but  this  has  always  excited  my  wonder,  how  they  could  im- 
agine their  readers  would  fail  of  perceiving  that  there  was  not 
a  word  of  truth  in  all  their  narratives. 

Now,  as  I  cannot  resist  the  vanity  of  transmitting  to  pos- 
terity a  little  work  of  my  own  composing,  and  though  I  have 
nothing  true  to  relate  (for  nothing  memorable  has  happened  to 
me  in  all  my  life),  I  see  not  why  I  have  not  as  good  a  right  to 
deal  in  fiction  as  another  :  I  resolved,  however,  to  adopt  an 
honester  mode  of  lying  than  the  generality  of  my  compeers  : 
for  I  tell  at  least  one  truth,  by  saying  that  I  lie  ;  and  the  more 
confidently  hope  therefore  to  escape  the  general  censure, 
since  my  own  voluntary  confession  is  a  sufficient  proof  that  I 
desire  to  impose  upon  no  one.  Accordingly  I  hereby  declare, 
that  I  sit  down  to  relate  what  never  befell  me  ;  what  I  neither 
saw  myself,  nor  heard  by  report  from  others  ;  aye,  what  is  more, 
about  matters  that  not  only  are  not,  but  never  will  be,  because 
in  one  word  they  are  absolutely  impossible,  and  to  which  there- 
fore I  warn  my  readers  (if  by  the  by  I  should  have  any)  not 
to  give  even  the  smallest  degree  of  credit. 

Once  on  a  time,  then,  I  set  sail  from  Cadiz,  and  steered  my 
course  with  a  fair  wind  to  the  Hesperian  ocean.  The  occasion 
and  the  object  of  my  voyage  were,  to  speak  honestly,  that  I  had 
nothing  more  convenient  to  think  of  or  to  do,  and  had  a  certain 


580  AN  ANCIENT  GULLIVER. 

restless  curiosity  to  see  novelties  of  whatever  kind,  and  a  de- 
sire to  ascertain  wliere  the  western  ocean  terminates,  and  what 
sort  of  men  dwell  beyond  it.  In  this  view  my  first  care  was  to 
get  on  board  the  necessary  stock  of  provision  for  so  long  a  voy- 
age, and  plenty  of  fresh  water,  taking  along  with  me  fifty  com- 
panions of  the  same  mind  as  myself ;  and,  moreover,  I  provided 
myself  with  a  good  store  of  arms,  and  one  of  the  most  experi- 
enced pilots,  whom  I  took  into  my  service  on  an  allowance  of 
considerable  wages.  My  vessel  was  a  sort  of  yacht,  but  built 
as  large  and  stout  as  was  necessary  for  a  long  and  dangerous 
voyage. 

We  sailed  a  day  and  a  night  with  favorable  gales,  and  while 
still  within  sight  of  land,  were  not  violently  carried  on ;  on  the 
following  day  at  sunrise,  however,  the  wind  blew  fresher,  the 
sea  ran  high,  the  sky  lowered,  and  it  was  impossible  even  to 
take  in  the  sails.  We  were  therefore  forced  to  resign  ourselves 
to  the  wind,  and  were  nine  and  seventy  days  driven  about  by 
the  storm.  On  the  eightieth,  however,  at  daybreak,  we  de- 
scried a  high  and  woody  island  not  far  off,  against  which,  the 
gale  having  greatly  abated,  the  breakers  were  not  uncommonly 
furious.  We  landed  therefore,  got  out,  and,  happy  after  sus- 
taining so  many  troubles  to  feel  the  solid  earth  under  us,  we 
stretched  ourselves  at  ease  upon  the  ground.  At  length,  after 
having  rested  for  some  time,  we  arose,  and  selected  thirty  of 
our  company  to  stay  by  the  ship,  while  the  remaining  thirty 
accompanied  me  in  penetrating  farther  inland,  to  examine  into 
the  quality  of  the  island. 

When  we  had  proceeded  about  two  thousand  paces  from 
the  shore  through  the  forest,  we  came  up  to  a  pillar  of  brass, 
on  which  in  Greek  letters,  half  effaced  and  consumed  by  rust, 
this  inscription  was  legible  :  Thus  far  came  Bacchus  and  Her- 
cules. We  also  discovered,  at  no  great  distance  from  it,  two 
footmarks  in  the  rock,  one  of  which  measured  a  whole  acre,  but 
the  other  was  apparently  somewhat  smaller.  1  conjectured  the 
lesser  one  to  be  that  of  Bacchus,  and  the  other  that  of  Hercules. 
We  bowed  the  knee,  and  went  on,  but  had  not  proceeded  far 
when  we  came  to  a  river,  that  instead  of  water  ran  with  wine, 
which  both  in  color  and  flavor  appeared  to  us  like  our  Chian 
wine.  The  river  was  so  broad  and  deep,  that  in  many  places 
it  was  even  navigable.  Such  an  evident  sign  that  Bacchus  had 
once  been  here  served  not  a  little  to  confirm  our  faitli  in  the 
inscription  on  the  pillar.     But  being  curious  to  learn  whence 


AN  ANCIENT  GULLIVf^R.  ggl 

tliis  stream  derived  its  origin,  we  went  up  to  its  head  ;  bnt 
found  no  spring,  and  only  a  quantity  of  large  vines  hung  full 
of  clusters,  and  at  the  bottom  of  every  stem  the  wine  trickled 
down  in  bright  transparent  drops,  from  the  confluence  wliereof 
the  stream  arose.  We  saw  likewise  a  vast  quantity  of  fislies 
therein,  the  flesh  of  which  had  botli  the  color  and  flavor  of  the 
wine  in  which  they  lived.  We  caught  some,  and  so  greedily 
swallowed  them  down,  that  as  many  as  ate  of  them  were  com- 
pletely drunk ;  and  on  cutting  up  the  fishes  we  found  them  to 
be  full  of  lees.  It  occurred  to  us  afterwards  to  mix  these  wine 
fishes  with  water  fishes,  whereby  they  lost  their  strong  vinous 
taste,  and  yielded  an  excellent  dish. 

We  then  crossed  the  river  at  a  part  where  we  found  it  ford- 
able,  and  came  among  a  v/onderful  species  of  vines  :  v/hich 
toAvard  the  earth  had  firm  stocks,  green  and  knotty ;  but  up- 
wards they  were  ladies,  having  down  to  the  waist  their  several 
proportions  perfect  and  complete  ;  as  Daphne  is  depicted,  when 
she  was  turned  into  a  tree  in  Apollo's  embrace.  Their  fingers 
terminated  in  shoots,  full  of  bunches  of  grapes,  and  instead  of 
hair  their  heads  were  grown  over  with  tendrils,  leaves,  and 
clusters.  These  ladies  came  up  to  us,  amicably  gave  us  their 
hands,  and  greeted  us,  some  in  Lydian,  others  in  Indian  lan- 
guage, but  most  of  them  in  Greek  ;  they  saluted  us  also  on  the 
lips  ;  but  those  whom  they  kissed  immediately  became  drunk, 
and  reeled.  Their  fruit,  however,  they  Avould  not  permit  us 
to  pluck,  and  screamed  out  with  pain  when  we  broke  off  a 
bunch.  Some  of  them  even  showed  an  inclination  to  consort 
with  us ;  but  a  couple  of  my  companions,  in  consenting  to  it, 
paid  dear  for  their  complaisance.  For  they  got  so  entangled 
in  their  embraces,  that  they  could  never  after  be  loosed  ;  but 
every  limb  coalesced  and  grew  together  Avith  theirs,  in  such 
sort  as  to  become  one  stock  with  roots  in  common.  Their  fin- 
gers changed  into  vine  twigs,  and  began  to  l^ud,  giving  promise 
of  fruit. 

Leaving  them  to  their  fate,  Ave  made  Avhat  haste  Ave  could 
to  our  ship,  Avhere  Ave  related  all  that  Ave  had  seen  to  our  com- 
rades, Avhom  we  had  left  behind,  particular!}'  the  adA'enture  of 
the  two  whose  embraces  with  the  vine  women  had  turned  out 
so  badly.  Hereupon  we  filled  our  empty  casks  partly  with 
common  water,  partly  from  the  Avine  stream  ;  and  after  liaA^ng 
passed  the  night  not  far  from  the  latter,  Aveighed  anchor  in  the 
morning  Avith  a  moderate  breeze.     But  about  noon,  Avlien  Ave 


582  AN  ANCIENT  GULLIVER. 

had  lost  sight  of  the  island,  we  were  suddenly  caught  by  a 
whirlwind,  which  turned  our  vessel  several  times  round  in  a 
circle  with  tremendous  velocity,  and  lifted  it  above  three  thou- 
sand stadia  aloft  in  the  air,  not  setting  it  down  again  on  the 
sea,  but  kept  it  suspended  above  the  water  at  that  height,  and 
carried  us  on,  with  swelled  sails,  above  the  clouds. 

Having  thus  continued  our  course  through  the  sky  for  the 
space  of  seven  days  and  as  many  nights,  on  the  eighth  day  we 
descried  a  sort  of  earth  in  the  air,  resembling  a  large,  shining, 
circular  island,  spreading  a  remarkably  brilliant  light  around  it. 
We  made  up  to  it,  anchored  our  ship,  and  went  on  shore,  and 
on  examination  found  it  inhabited  and  cultivated.  Indeed,  by 
day  we  could  distinguish  nothing  :  but  as  soon  as  the  night 
came  on,  we  discerned  other  islands  in  the  vicinity,  some 
bigger,  some  less,  and  all  of  a  fiery  color.  There  was  also, 
very  deep  below  these,  another  earth,  having  on  it  cities  and 
rivers  and  lakes  and  forests  and  mountains ;  whence  we  con- 
cluded that  it  might  probably  be  ours. 

Having  resolved  on  prosecuting  our  journey,  "\ve  came  up 
with  a  number  of  horse  vultures  or  hippogypes,  as  they  are 
called  in  tliis  country,  who  immediately  seized  our  persons. 
These  hippogypes  are  men  who  ride  upon  huge  vultures,  and 
are  as  well  skilled  in  managing  them  as  we  are  in  the  use  of 
horses.  But  the  vultures  are  of  a  prodigious  bulk,  and  for  the 
most  part  have  three  heads  ;  and  liow  large  they  must  be,  may 
be  judged  of  by  this,  that  each  of  the  feathers  in  their  wings  is 
longer  and  thicker  than  the  mast  of  a  great  corn  ship.  The 
hippogypes  are  commissioned  to  fly  round  the  whole  island, 
a,nd  whenever  they  meet  a  stranger,  to  carry  him  before  the 
king  ;  with  which  order  we  were  therefore  obliged  to  comply. 
The  king  no  sooner  spied  us,  than  he  understood,  I  suppose 
from  our  dress,  wdiat  countrymen  we  were  ;  for  the  firot  word 
he  said  to  us  was,  '-The  gentlemen  then  are  Greeks."  On  our 
not  scrupling  to  own  it,  he  continued,  "  How  got  you  hither, 
through  sucli  a  A'ast  tract  of  air  as  that  lying  between  your 
earth  and  this  ?  "  We  then  told  him  all  that  had  happened  to 
us.  Upon  this  he  was  pleased  to  communicate  to  us  some  par- 
ticulars of  his  history.  He  told  us  :  he  was  likewise  a  man, 
and  tlie  same  Endjauion  who  was  long  since,  while  he  lay 
asleep,  rapt  up  from  our  earth  and  conveyed  hither,  where  he 
was  appointed  king,  and  is  the  same  that  appears  to  us  below  as 
the  moon.     INIoreover,  he  bade  us  !•«  of  good  cheer  and  appre- 


AN  ANCIENT   GULLIVER.  583 

liend  no  danger  ;  assuring  us  at  the  same  that  we  should  be 
provided  with  all  necessaries  :  "  and,"  added  he,  "  when  I  shall 
have  successfully  put  a  period  to  the  war  in  which  I  am  at 
l)resent  engaged  with  tlie  inhabitants  of  the  sun,  you  shall  pass 
with  me  the  happiest  lives  you  can  possibly  conceive."  On  our 
asking  him  what  enemies  he  had,  and  how  the  misunderstand- 
ing began,  he  replied  :  — 

"  It  is  now  a  long  time,  that  Phaeton,  tlie  king  of  the  solar 
inhabitants  (for  the  sun  is  no  less  peopled  than  the  moon),  has 
been  at  war  with  us,  for  no  other  reason  than  this.  I  had 
taken  the  resolution  to  send  out  the  poorest  people  of  my 
dominions  as  a  colony  into  the  morning  star,  which  at  that 
time  was  waste  and  void  of  inhabitants.  To  this  now,  Phaeton, 
out  of  envy,  would  not  consent,  and  o^Dposed  my  colonists  with 
a  troop  of  horse  pismires  in  midway.  Being  unprepared  for 
the  encounter,  and  therefore  not  provided  wdth  arms,  we  were 
for  that  time  forced  to  retreat.  1  have  now,  however,  resolved 
to  have  another  contest  with  them,  and  to  settle  my  colony 
there,  cost  what  it  will.  If  you  therefore  have  a  mind  to  take 
part  in  this  enterprise,  I  will  furnish  you  with  vultures  out  of 
my  own  mews,  and  provide  you  with  the  necessary  arms  and 
accouterments  ;  and  to-morrow  we  will  begin  our  march." 
"With  all  my  heart,"  I  replied,  "  whenever  you  please." 
The  king  that  evening  made  us  sit  down  to  an  entertain- 
ment ;  and  on  the  following  morning  early  we  made  the 
necessary  preparations,  and  drew  up  in  battle  arra}^  our  scouts 
having  apprised  us  that  the  enemy  was  approaching.  Our 
army  consisted,  besides  the  light  infantry,  the  foreign  auxilia- 
ries, the  engineers  and  sutlers,  of  a  hundred  thousand  men  : 
that  is  to  say,  eighty  thousand  horse  vultures,  and  twenty 
thousand  who  were  mounted  on  cabbage  fowl.  These  are  an 
exceedingly  numerous  species  of  birds,  that  instead  of  feathers 
are  thickly  grown  over  with  cabbages,  and  have  a  broad  kind 
of  lettuce  leaves  for  wings.  Our  flanks  were  comjDosed  of 
bean  shooters  and  garlic  throwers.  In  addition  to  these,  thirty 
thousand  flea  guards  and  fifty  thousand  wdnd  coursers  were 
sent  to  our  aid  from  the  bean  star.  The  former  are  archers 
mounted  on  a  kind  of  fleas  which  are  twelve  times  as  big  as  an 
elephant ;  but  the  wind  coursers,  though  they  light  on  foot,  yet 
run  without  wings  in  the  air.  This  is  performed  in  the  follow- 
ing manner  :  they  wear  wide,  long  gowns,  reaching  dov/n  to  the 
ankles  ;  these  they  tuck  up  so  as  to  liold  the  wind,  like  a  sail, 


584  AN  ANCIENT  GULLIVER. 

and  thus  they  are  wafted  through  the  air  after  the  manner  of 
ships.  In  battle  they  are  generally  used  like  our  peltasts.  It 
was  currently  reported  that  seventy  thousand  sparrow  acorns 
and  five  thousand  horse  cranes  were  to  be  sent  us  from  the  stars 
over  Cappadocia ;  but  I  must  own  that  I  did  not  see  them,  and 
for  this  plain  reason,  that  they  never  came.  I  therefore  shall 
not  take  ujDon  me  to  describe  them ;  for  all  sorts  of  amazing 
and  incredible  things  were  propagated  about  them. 

Such  were  the  forces  of  Endymion.  Their  arms  and  accou- 
terments  were  all  alike.  Their  helmets  were  of  bean  shells,  the 
beans  with  them  being  excessively  large  and  thick-shelled. 
Their  scaly  coats  of  mail  were  made  of  the  husks  of  their 
lupines  sewed  together,  for  in  that  country  the  shell  of  the 
lupine  is  as  hard  and  impenetrable  as  horn.  Their  shields  and 
swords  differ  not  from  those  of  the  Greeks. 

Everything  now  being  ready,  the  troops  disposed  themselves 
in  the  following  order  of  battle  :  the  horse  vultures  composed 
the  right  wing,  and  were  led  on  by  the  king  in  person,  sur- 
rounded by  a  number  of  picked  men,  amongst  whom  we  also 
were  ranged ;  the  left  wing  consisted  of  the  cabbage  fowl,  and 
in  the  center  were  placed  the  auxiliaries,  severally  classed. 
The  foot  soldiery  amounted  to  about  sixty  millions.  There  is 
a  species  of  spiders  in  the  moon,  the  smallest  of  which  is  bigger 
than  one  of  the  islands  of  the  Cyclades.  These  received  orders 
to  fill  up  the  whole  tract  of  air  between  the  moon  and  morning 
star  with  a  web.  This  was  done  in  a  few  instants,  and  served 
as  a  floor  for  the  foot  soldiers  to  form  themselves  in  order  of 
battle  upon ;  these  were  commanded  by  Nightbird,  Fairweath- 
er's  son,  and  two  other  generals. 

On  the  left  wing  of  the  enemy  stood  the  horse  pismires, 
headed  by  Phaeton.  These  animals  are  a  species  of  winged 
ants,  differing  from  ours  only  in  bulk,  the  largest  of  them 
covering  no  less  than  two  acres.  They  have  besides  one  pecul- 
iarity, that  they  assist  their  riders  in  fighting  principally  with 
their  horns.  Their  number  was  given  in  at  about  fifty  thousand. 
On  the  right  wing  in  the  first  engagement  somewhere  about 
fifty  thousand  gnat  riders  were  posted,  all  archers,  mounted  on 
monstrous  huge  gnats.  Behind  these  stood  the  radish  darters, 
a  sort  of  light  infantry,  but  who  greatly  annoyed  the  enemy  ■ 
being  armed  with  slings  from  which  they  threw  horrid  large 
radishes  to  a  very  great  distance  ;  whoever  was  struck  by  them 
died  on  the  spot,  and  the  v.-ound  instantly  gave  out  an  intoler- 


AN   ANCIENT  GULLIVER.  585 

able  stench,  for  it  is  said  that  they  dipped  the  radishes  in 
mallow  poison.  Behind  them  stood  the  stalky  mushrooms, 
heavy-armed  infantry,  ten  thousand  in  number,  having  their 
name  from  their  bearing  a  kind  of  fungus  for  their  shield,  and 
using  stalks  of  large  asparagus  for  spears.  Not  far  from  these 
were  placed  the  dog  acorns,  who  were  sent  to  succor  Phaeton 
from  the  inhabitants  of  Sirius,  in  number  five  thousand. 
They  were  men  with  dogs'  heads,  who  fought  on  winged  acorns, 
which  served  them  as  chariots.  Besides,  there  went  a  report 
that  several  other  reinforcements  were  to  have  come,  on  which 
Phaeton  had  reckoned,  particularly  the  slingers  that  were  ex- 
pected from  the  Milky  Way,  together  with  the  cloud  centaurs. 
The  latter,  however,  did  not  arrive  till  after  the  affair  was 
decided,  and  it  had  been  as  well  for  us  if  they  had  stayed  away  ; 
the  slingers,  however,  came  not  at  all,  at  which  Phaeton  was  so 
enraged  that  he  afterwards  laid  waste  their  country  by  fire. 
These  then  were  all  the  forces  that  Phaeton  brought  into  the 
field. 

The  signal  for  the  onset  was  now  given  on  both  sides  by  asses, 
which  in  this  country  are  employed  instead  of  trumpeters  :  and 
the  engagement  had  no  sooner  begun,  than  the  left  wing  of  the 
Heliotans,  without  waiting  for  the  attack  of  the  horse  vultures, 
turned  their  backs  immediately  ;  and  we  pursued  them  with 
great  slaughter.  On  the  other  hand,  their  right  wing  at  first 
gained  the  advantage  over  our  left,  and  the  gnat  riders  over- 
threw our  cabbage  fowl  with  such  force,  and  pursued  them  with 
so  much  fury,  that  they  advanced  even  to  our  footmen  ;  who, 
however,  stood  their  ground  so  bravely  that  the  enemy  were  in 
their  turn  thrown  into  disorder  and  obliged  to  fly,  especially 
when  they  saw  that  their  left  wing  was  routed.  Their  defeat 
was  now  decisive  ;  we  made  a  great  many  prisoners,  and  the 
slain  were  so  numerous  that  the  clouds  were  tinged  with  the 
blood  that  was  spilt,  as  they  sometimes  appear  to  us  at  the  going 
down  of  the  sun  ;  aye,  it  even  trickled  down  from  them  upon 
the  earth.  So  that  I  was  led  to  suppose  that  a  similar  event 
in  former  times,  in  the  upper  regions,  might  perhaps  have 
caused  those  showers  of  blood  which  Homer  makes  his  Jupiter 
rain  for  Sarpedon's  death. 

Returning  from  the  pursuit  of  the  enemy,  we  erected  two 
trophies  ;  one  for  the  infantry  on  the  cobweb,  the  other  on  the 
clouds  for  those  who  had  fought  in  the  air.  While  we  were 
thus  employed,  intelligence  was  brought  us  from  our  fore  posts 


586  AN   ANCIENT  GULLlVfiU. 

that  the  cloud  centaurs  were  now  coming  up,  which  ought  to 
have  joined  Phaeton  before  the  battle.  1  must  own,  that  the 
march  towards  us  of  an  army  of  cavalry  that  were  half  men  and 
half  winged  horses,  and  of  whom  the  human  half  was  as  big  as 
the  upper  moiety  of  the  colossus  at  Rhodes,  and  the  equine  half 
resembling  a  great  ship  of  burden,  formed  a  spectacle  altogether 
extraordinary.  Their  number  I  rather  decline  to  state,  for  it 
was  so  prodigious  that  I  am  fearful  I  should  not  be  believed. 
They  were  led  on  by  Sagittarius  from  the  Zodiac.  As  soon  as 
they  learnt  that  their  friends  had  been  defeated,  they  sent 
immediately  a  dispatch  to  Phaeton,  to  call  him  back  to  the  fight ; 
whilst  they  marched  up  in  good  array  to  the  terrified  Selenites, 
who  had  fallen  into  great  disorder  in  pursuing  the  enemy  and 
dividing  the  spoil,  put  them  all  to  flight,  pursued  the  king 
himself  to  the  very  walls  of  his  capital,  killed  the  greater  part 
of  his  birds,  threw  down  the  trophies,  overran  the  whole  field 
of  cobweb,  and  together  with  the  rest  made  me  and  my  two  com- 
panions prisoners  of  war.  Phaeton  at  length  came  up  ;  and 
after  they  had  erected  other  trophies,  that  same  day  we  were 
carried  prisoners  into  the  sun,  our  hands  tied  behind  our  backs 
with  a  cord  of  the  cobweb. 

The  enemy  did  not  think  fit  to  besiege  Endymion's  capital, 
but  contented  himself  with  carrying  up  a  double  rampart  of 
clouds  between  the  moon  and  tlie  sun,  whereby  all  communi- 
cation between  the  two  was  effectually  cut  off,  and  the  moon 
deprived  of  all  sunlight.  The  poor  moon,  therefore,  from  that 
instant  suffered  a  total  eclipse,  and  was  shrouded  in  complete 
uninterrupted  darkness.  In  this  distress,  Endymion  had  no 
other  resource  than  to  send  a  deputation  to  the  sun,  humbly  to 
entreat  him  to  demolish  the  wall,  and  that  he  would  not  be  so 
unmerciful  as  to  doom  him  to  utter  darkness ;  binding  himself 
to  pay  a  tribute  to  the  sun,  to  assist  him  with  auxiliaries  when- 
ever he  should  be  at  war,  never  more  to  act  with  hostility  against 
him,  and  to  give  hostages  as  surety  for  the  due  performance  of 
the  contract.  Phaeton  held  two  councils  to  deliberate  on  these 
proposals  :  in  the  first,  their  minds  were  as  yet  too  soured  to 
admit  of  a  favorable  reception ;  but  in  the  second,  their  anger 
had  somewhat  subsided,  and  the  peace  was  concluded  by  a 
treaty  which  ran  thus  :  — 

The  Heliotans  with  their  allies  on  the  one  part,  and  the_  Sele- 
nites vvith  their  confederates  on  the  other  part,  have  entered  into  a 


AN   ANCIENT   GULLIVER.  687 

league,  in  which  it  is  stipulated  as  follows :  The  Heliotans  engage 
to  demolish  the  wall,  never  more  to  make  hostile  attacks  upon  the 
moon,  and  that  the  prisoners  taken  on  both  sides  shall  be  set  at  lib- 
erty on  the  payment  of  an  equitable  ransom.  The  Selenites  on  their 
part  promise  not  to  infringe  the  rights  and  privileges  of  the  other  stars, 
nor  ever  again  to  make  war  upon  the  Heliotans  ;  but  on  the  contrary, 
the  two  powers  shall  mutually  aid  and  assist  one  another  with  their 
forces,  in  case  of  any  invasion.  The  king  of  the  Selenites  also  binds 
himself  to  pay  to  the  king  of  the  Heliotans  a  yearly  tribute  of  ten 
thousand  casks  of  dew,  and  give  ten  thousand  hostages  by  way  of 
security.  With  reference  to  the  colony  in  the  morning  star,  both 
the  contracting  parties  shall  jointly  assist  in  establishing  it,  and  lib- 
erty is  given  to  any  that  will  to  share  in  the  peopling  of  it.  This 
treaty  shall  be  engraved  on  a  pillar  of  amber,  to  be  set  up  between 
the  confines  of  the  two  kingdoms.  To  the  due  performance  of  this 
treaty  are  solemnly  sworn,  on  the  part  of  the 

Heliotes.  Selenites. 

Fireman.  Nightlove. 

Summerlieat.  Moonius. 

Flamington.  Changelight. 

This  treaty  of  peace  being  signed,  the  wall  was  pulled  down, 
and  the  prisoners  were  exchanged.  On  our  return  to  the  moon, 
our  comrades  and  Endymion  himself  came  forth  to  meet  us,  and 
embraced  us  v/iih  weeping  eyes.  The  prince  would  fain  have 
retained  us  with  him ;  making  us  the  proposal  at  the  same  time 
to  form  part  of  the  new  colony,  as  we  liked  best.  He  even 
offered  me  his  own  son  for  a  mate  (for  they  have  no  women 
there).  This  I  could  by  no  means  be  persuaded  to,  but  ear- 
nestly begged  that  he  would  set  us  down  upon  the  sea.  Finding 
that  I  could  not  be  prevailed  on  to  stay,  he  consented  to  dis- 
miss us,  after  he  had  feasted  us  most  nobly  during  a  whole 
week. 

******* 

When  a  Selenite  is  grown  old,  he  does  not  die  as  we  do,  but 
vanishes  like  smoke  in  the  air. 

The  whole  nation  eats  the  same  sort  of  food.  They  roast 
frogs  (which  with  them  fly  about  the  air  in  vast  numbers)  on 
coals;  then  when  they  are  done  enough,  seating  themselves 
round  the  hearth,  as  we  do  at  a  table,  snuff  up  the  effluvia  that 
rises  from  them,  and  in  this  consists  their  vrhole  meal.  When 
thirsty,  they  squeeze  the  air  into  a  goblet,  which  is  filled  in  this 
manner  with  a  dewlike  moisture.   ... 


688  AN  ANCIENT   GULLIVER. 

Whoever  would  pass  for  a  beauty  among  them  must  be 
bald  and  without  hair ;  curly  and  bushy  heads  are  an  abomina- 
tion to  them.  But  in  the  comets  it  is  just  the  reverse :  for 
there  only  curly  hair  is  esteemed  beautiful,  as  some  travelers, 
who  were  well  received  in  those  stars,  informed  us.  Neverthe- 
less they  have  somewhat  of  a  beard  a  little  above  the  knee. 
On  their  feet  they  have  neither  nails  nor  toes ;  for  the  whole 
foot  is  entirely  one  piece.  Every  one  of  them  at  the  point  of 
the  rump  has  a  large  cabbage  growing,  in  lieu  of  a  tail,  always 
green  and  flourishing,  and  which  never  breaks  off  though  a  man 
falls  on  his  back. 

They  sneeze  a  very  sour  kind  of  honey ;  and  when  they  are 
at  Avork  or  gymnastic  exercises,  or  use  any  exertion,  milk  oozes 
from  all  the  pores  of  the  body  in  such  quantities  that  they  make 
cheese  of  it,  only  mixing  with  it  a  little  of  the  said  honey. 

They  have  an  art  of  extracting  an  oil  from  onions,  which  is 
very  white,  and  of  so  fragrant  an  odor  that  they  use  it  for  per- 
fuming. Moreover,  their  soil  produces  a  great  abundance  of 
vines,  which  instead  of  wine  yield  water  grapes,  and  the  grape- 
stones  are  the  size  of  our  hail,  I  know  not  how  better  to 
explain  the  hail  with  us,  than  by  saying  that  it  hails  on  the 
earth  whenever  the  vines  in  the  moon  are  violently  agitated  by 
a  high  wind,  so  as  to  burst  the  Avater  grapes. 

The  Selenites  wear  no  pockets,  but  put  all  they  would  carry 
with  them  in  their  bellies,  which  they  can  open  and  shut  at 
pleasure.  For  by  nature  they  are  quite  empt}^  having  no 
intestines  ;  only  they  are  rough  and  hairy  witlnn,  so  that  even 
their  new-born  children,  when  they  are  cold,  creep  into  them. 

As  to  their  clothing,  the  rich  wear  garments  of  glass,  but 
those  of  the  poorer  sort  are  wove  of  brass  ;  for  these  regions 
are  very  prolific  in  ores,  and  they  work  it  as  we  do  wool,  by 
pouring  water  upon  it. 

But  what  sort  of  eyes  they  have,  I  doubt  my  veracity  would 
be  suspected  were  I  to  say  ;  it  is  so  incredible.  Yet,  having 
already  related  so  much  of  the  marvelous,  this  may  as  well  go 
along  with  the  rest.  They  have  eyes,  then,  that  they  can  take 
out  whenever  they  choose  :  whoever  therefore  would  save  his 
eyes,  takes  them  out,  and  lays  them  by ;  if  anything  that  he 
would  fain  see  presents  itself,  he  puts  his  eyes  in  again  and 
looks  at  it.  Some  who  have  carelessly  lost  their  own  borrow 
of  others  ;  for  rich  people  are  always  provided  with  a  good 
stock. 


AN  ANCIENT  GULLIVER.  589 

Their  ears  are  made  of  plane-tree  leaves,  and  only  the 
Dendrites  have  wooden  ones. 

I  saw  also  another  strange  object  in  the  king's  palace ; 
which  was  a  looking-glass  of  enormous  dimensions,  lying  over 
a  well  not  very  deep.  Whoever  goes  down  into  this  well  hears 
everything  that  is  said  upon  our  earth  ;  and  whoever  looks  in 
the  mirror  sees  in  it  all  the  cities  and  nations  of  the  world, 
exactly  as  if  they  were  standing  before  him.  I  saw  on  this 
occasion  my  family  and  my  whole  country :  whether,  however, 
they  likewise  saw  me,  I  cannot  positively  say.  He  who  does 
not  believe  what  I  have  mentioned  touching  the  virtues  of  this 
looking-glass,  if  he  ever  goes  thither,  may  convince  himself  by 
his  own  eyes  that  I  have  said  nothing  but  what  is  true. 

We  now  took  oiu-  leaves  of  the  king  and  his  court,  repaired 
on  board  our  ship,  and  departed.  Endymion  at  parting  made 
me  a  present  of  two  glass  and  five  brazen  robes,  together  Avith 
a  complete  suit  of  armor  made  of  bean  shells ;  all  of  which  I 
was  afterwards  forced  to  leave  behind  in  the  whale's  belly. 
He  likewise  sent  with  us  a  thousand  hippogypes,  to  escort  us 
five  hundred  stadia  on  our  way. 

After  having  in  our  course  coasted  along  several  countries, 
we  landed  on  the  morning  star,  which  had  lately  been  culti- 
vated, to  take  in  fresh  water.  Thence  we  steered  into  the 
Zodiac,  sailing  close  by  the  sun  on  the  left  hand ;  but  here  we 
did  not  go  ashore,  though  my  companions  were  very  desirous 
to  do  so,  because  the  wind  was  against  us.  We  got  near 
enough,  however,  to  see  that  the  landscape  was  covered  with 
the  most  beautiful  verdure,  well  watered,  and  richly  endowed 
with  all  sorts  of  natural  productions.  The  nephelocentaurs, 
who  are  mercenaries  in  the  service  of  Phaeton,  on  seeing  us 
fled  on  board  our  pinnace  ;  but  on  being  informed  that  ^ve  were 
included  in  the  treaty  of  peace,  soon  departed. 

The  hippogypes  now  likewise  took  leave  of  us,  and  all  the 
next  night  and  day,  continuing  our  course,  always  bearing 
doAvnwards,  towards  evening  we  arrived  at  a  place  called 
Lampton.  This  city  is  situated  between  tlie  Pleiades  and 
Hyades,  and  a  little  below  the  Zodiac.  Here  we  landed,  but 
saw  no  men ;  instead  of  them,  however,  we  beheld  a  vast  con- 
course of  lamps,  running  to  and  fro  along  the  streets,  and  busily 
employed  in  the  market  and  the  harbor.  They  were  in  general 
little,  and  had  a  poor  appearance.  Some  few,  we  could  per^ 
ceive  by  their  fine  show  and  brightness,  ^Yeve  the  great  and 


590  AN  ANCIENT  GULLIVER. 

powerful  among  them.  Every  one  had  its  own  Lmfcern  to  live 
in,  v/ith  their  proper  names  as  men  have.  We  likewise  heard 
them  articulate  a  sort  of  speech.  They  offered  us  no  injury, 
but  rather  seemed  to  receive  us  hospitably  after  their  manner ; 
notwithstanding  which,  we  could  not  get  the  better  of  our 
fears,  and  none  of  us  would  venture  to  eat  or  to  sleep  ^vith 
them,  in  the  middle  of  the  city  they  have  a  kind  of  court- 
house, Avhere  their  chief  magistrate  sits  all  the  niglit  long,  and 
calls  every  one  by  name  to  him ;  and  whoever  does  not  answer 
is  treated  as  a  deserter,  and  punished  by  death,  —  that  is,  he 
is  extinguished.  We  likewise  heard,  wiiile  standing  by  to  see 
what  passed,  some  of  them  make  their  several  excuses,  and  the 
reasons  they  alleged  for  coming  so  late.  On  this  occasion  I 
recognized  our  own  house  lamp ;  upon  which  I  inquired  of  it 
how  affairs  went  on  at  home,  and  it  told  me  all  that  it  knew. 

Having  resolved  to  stay  there  but  one  night,  we  weighed 
anchor  the  next  morning,  and  sailed  oft'  from  Lychnopolis, 
passing  near  the  clouds,  where  we,  among  others,  saw  to  our 
great  astonishment  the  famous  city  of  Nephelococcygia,  but  by 
reason  of  adverse  winds  could  not  enter  the  port.  We  learnt, 
however,  that  Coronos,  Cottyphion's  son,  was  reigning  there  ; 
and  I  for  my  own  part  was  confirmed  in  the  opinion  that  I  have 
ever  entertained  of  the  wisdom  and  veracity  of  the  poet  Aris- 
tophanes, whose  account  of  that  city  has  been  unjustly  discred- 
ited. Three  days  afterwards  we  came  again  in  sight  of  the 
great  ocean ;  but  the  earth  showed  itself  nov/here,  that  floating 
in  the  air  excepted,  which  appeared  exceedingly  fiery  and  spar- 
kling. On  the  fourth  day  about  noon,  the  wind,  gently  subsid- 
ing, settled  us  fair  and  leisurely  upon  the  sea. 

It  is  impossible  to  describe  the  ravishment  that  seized  us  on 
feeling  ourselves  once  more  on  the  water.  We  gave  the  whole 
ship's  crew  a  feast  on  the  remainder  of  our  provisions,  and 
afterwards  leaped  into  the  water,  and  bathed  to  our  heart's 
content ;  for  it  was  now  a  perfect  calm,  and  the  sea  as  smooth 
as  a  looking-glass. 

Soon,  however,  we  experienced  that  a  sudden  change  for 
the  better  is  not  seldom  the  beginning  of  greater  misfortunes. 
For  scarcely  had  we  proceeded  two  days  on  the  sea,  when  about 
sunrise  a  great  many  whales  and  other  monsters  of  the  deep 
appeared.  Among  the  former,  one  was  of  a  most  enormous 
size,  being  not  less  than  three  hundred  miles  long.  This  came 
towards  us,  open-mouthed,  raising  the  waves  on  all  sides,  and 


AN   ANCIENT   GULLIVER.  591 

beating  the  sea  before  liiin  into  a  foam,  and  sliowing  teeth 
niucli  larger  than  our  colossal  phalli,  shaq3-i3ointed  as  needles 
and  white  as  ivoiy.  We  therefore  took  our  last  leave  of  one 
another,  and  while  we  were  thus  in  mutual  embraces  expecting 
him  every  moment,  he  came  on  and  swallowed  us  up,  ship  and 
all,  at  one  gulp  ;  for  he  found  it  unnecessary  to  crush  us  first 
with  his  teeth,  but  the  vessel  at  one  squeeze  slipped  between  the 
interstices,  and  went  down  into  his  maw. 

When  we  were  in,  it  was  at  first  so  dark  that  we  could  dis- 
cern nothing  ;  but  when  after  some  time  he  opened  his  chops, 
we  saw  ourselves  in  a  cavity  of  such  prodigious  height  and 
width  that  it  seemed  to  have  room  enough  for  a  city  of  ten 
thousand  inhabitants.  All  about  lay  a  vast  quantity  of  smaVi 
fishes,  macerated  animals,  sails,  anchors,  men's  bones,  and  whole 
cargoes.  Farther  in,  probably  from  the  quantity  of  mud  this 
whale  had  swallowed,  was  an  earth  with  mountains  and  valleys 
upon  it  ]  the  former  being  covered  with  all  sorts  of  forest  trees, 
and  the  valleys  planted  with  different  herbs  and  vegetables, 
so  that  one  would  have  thought  it  had  been  cultivated.  This 
island,  if  I  may  so  term  it,  might  perhaps  be  about  forty-five 
miles  in  circumference.  We  saw  likewise  sundry  species  of 
sea  fowl,  gulls,  halcyons,  and  others,  that  had  made  their  nests 
upon  the  trees. 

We  now  had  leisure  to  contemplate  our  deplorable  situation, 
and  wept  plentifull3^  At  last  when  I  had  somewhat  comforted 
the  dejected  spirits  of  my  companions,  our  first  business  was 
to  make  the  ship  fast  ;  we  then  struck  fire,  and  of  the  fishes, 
which  lay  in  great  quantities  and  variety  about  us,  we  prepared 
a  good  meal ;  water  we  had  on  board,  the  remainder  of  what 
we  took  in  at  the  morning  star. 

On  getting  up  the  next  morning,  we  perceived  that  as  often 
as  the  whale  fetched  breath,  we  one  while  saw  mountains,  at 
another  nothing  but  the  sky,  sometimes  likewise  islands  ;  whence 
we  then  concluded  that  he  moved  about  with  great  velocity,  and 
seemed  to  visit  every  part  of  the  ocean. 

When  we  were  grown  a  little  familiar  with  our  new  place 
of  abode,  taking  with  me  seven  of  my  companions,  we  went  into 
the  forest  to  make  farther  discoveries.  We  had  not  proceeded 
above  a  furlong  before  we  came  to  a  temple,  which,  as  the  in- 
scription ran,  was  dedicated  to  Neptune  ;  not  far  off  we  found 
a  great  number  of  tombs  with  pillars,  and  a  little  farther  on,  a 
spring  of  clear  v/ater.     We  also  heard  the  barking  of  a  dog, 


592  AN  ANCIENT  GULLIVER. 

and  seeing  smoke  rise  at  some  distance,  we  concluded  that 
probably  we  might  not  be  far  from  some  dwelling.  We  now 
doubled  our  speed,  and  had  not  advanced  many  paces,  when  we 
met  an  old  man  and  a  youth  very  busy  in  cultivating  a  kitchen 
garden,  and  just  then  employed  in  conducting  water  into  it  by 
a  furrow  from  the  spring.  At  this  sight,  surprised  at  once 
both  by  joy  and  fear,  we  stood  raute,  and  it  may  easily  be  im- 
agined that  they  were  possessed  by  the  same  apprehensions. 
They  paused  from  their  work,  and  for  some  time  surveyed  us 
attentively,  without  uttering  a  sound.  At  last  the  old  man, 
taking  courage,  spoke  to  us  :  "  Who  are  you,"  said  he,  "  demons 
of  the  ocean,  or  miserable  men  like  us  ?  For  as  to  us,  we  are 
men,  and  from  offspring  of  the  earth,  as  we  were,  are  become 
inmates  of  the  sea,  and  are  carried  up  and  down  with  this 
monster  in  which  we  are  inclosed,  witliout  rightly  knowing 
what  to  think  of  ourselves  ;  for  we  have  every  reason  to  sup- 
pose we  are  dead,  though  we  believe  that  we  are  alive."  "We 
also,  old  father,"  I  replied,  "  are  men,  who  first  found  ourselves 
here  a  short  time  ago  ;  for  this  is  but  the  third  day  since  we 
were  swallowed  up,  together  with  our  ship  :  and  it  is  purely 
the  desire  of  exploring  this  forest,  which  appeared  so  vast  and 
thick,  that  has  brought  us  hither.  But  without  doubt  it  was 
by  the  guidance  of  some  good  genius  that  we  found  you,  and 
now  know  that  we  are  not  alone  inclosed  in  this  whale.  Tell 
us,  then,  if  I  may  be  so  bold,  who  you  are,  and  how  you  came 
hither."  Whereupon  the  good  old  man  assured  us  that  he 
would  not  satisfy  our  curiosit}^,  till  he  had  first  entertained  us 
as  well  as  he  was  able  ;  and  saying  this,  he  led  us  into  his 
house,  which  he  had  fitted  up  conveniently.  It  was  commo- 
dious enough  for  his  situation,  and  provided  with  pallets  and 
other  necessaries.  Here,  after  setting  before  us  legumes,  fruits, 
fish,  and  wine,  and  when  we  had  satisfied  our  appetites,  he 
began  to  inquire  into  the  accidents  that  had  occurred  to  us . 
and  I  recounted  to  him  everything  in  order,  —  the  storm,  and 
what  befell  us  on  the  island,  and  our  voyage  in  the  air,  and  the 
war,  and  all  the  rest  of  it,  to  the  moment  of  our  submersion 
into  the  whale. 

After  having  emphatically  expressed  to  rae  his  astonish- 
ment at  such  wonderful  occurrences,  he  then  told  us  his  own 
story.  "  My  friends,"  said  he,  "  I  am  a  merchant  of  Cyprus. 
Business  called  me  from  home ;  and  with  my  son,  whom  you 
see  here,  and  a  great  number  of  servants,  I  set  out  on  a  voyage 


AN  ANCIENT  GULLIVEK.  693 

to  Italy,  on  board  a  ship  freighted  with  various  kinds  of  mer- 
chandise, tlie  scattered  fragments  of  which  you  may  probably 
have  observed  in  the  whale's  gullet.  We  came  as  far  as  Sicily 
with  a  prosperous  gale  ;  but  there  a  contrary  wind  got  up,  which 
the  third  day  drove  us  into  the  ocean,  where  we  had  the  mis- 
fortune to  fall  in  with  this  whale,  and  to  be  swallowed  up, 
crew  and  ship  and  all.  All  my  people  lost  their  lives,  and  we 
two  alone  remained.  Having  deposited  them  in  the  earth,  we 
built  a  temple  to  Neptune,  and  here  we  have  lived  ever  since, 
cultivating  our  little  garden,  and  raising  herbs,  which  with  fish 
and  fruits  are  our  constant  nourishment.  The  forest,  which 
is  of  great  extent,  as  you  see,  produces  likewise  abundance  of 
vines,  which  yield  a  delicious  wine  ;  and  you  may  perhaps  have 
seen  that  we  have  a  spring  of  fresh  and  excellent  water.  We 
make  our  bed  of  leaves,  have  plenty  of  fuel,  and  catch  birds 
in  nets,  and  even  live  fish,  when  we  get  out  upon  the  gills  of 
the  monster,  where  we  bathe  likewise  whenever  we  have  an  in- 
clination that  way.  Besides,  not  far  from  hence  is  a  lake  of 
salt  water,  twenty  stadia  in  circumference,  and  abounding  in 
fish  of  various  kinds.  In  this  lake  we  sometimes  amuse  ourselves 
with  swimming,  or  in  rowing  about  in  a  little  boat  of  my  own 
making.  In  this  manner  we  have  now  spent  seven  and  twenty 
years,  since  we  were  swallowed  up  by  the  whale.  We  should  be 
contented  and  easy  enough  here  if  our  neighbors,  who  are  very 
unsociable  and  rude  people,  were  not  so  troublesome  to  u^." 

"What,  then,"  I  exclaimed,  "are  there  any  other  people 
beside  us  in  this  whale  ?  " 

"  A  great  many,"  returned  the  old  man ;  "  but  as  I  said, 
untractable  creatures,  and  of  very  grotesque  shapes.  The 
western  part  of  the  forest,  towards  the  tail  of  the  whale,  is 
inhabited  by  the  Tarichanes,  who  have  the  eyes  of  an  eel  and 
the  face  of  a  crab,  —  a  warlike,  bold,  and  rude,  carnivorous 
people.  On  the  other  side,  to  the  right,  the  Tritonomensetes 
dwell,  down  to  the  waist  resembling  men,  and  below  formed 
like  weasels ;  yet  their  disposition  is  not  so  mischievous  and 
ferocious  as  that  of  the  others.  On  the  left  hand  reside  the 
Carcinocheires  and  Thynnocephali,  the  former  of  whom  instead 
of  hands  have  crabs'  claws,  the  latter  have  the  head  of  a  tunny 
fish  ;  these  two  tribes  have  entered  into  alliance,  and  make 
common  cause  in  the  war.  The  middle  region  is  occupied  by 
the  Pagurades  and  Psettapodes,  a  couple  of  warlike  races,  who 
are  particuilarly  swift-footed.  The  eastern  parts,  next  the 
8 


694  AN   ANCIENT   GULLIVER. 

whale's  jaws,  being  generally  overwaslied  by  the  sea,  are  almost 
uninhabited  ;  I  am  therefore  fain  to  take  up  my  quarters  here, 
on  condition  of  paying  the  Psettapodes  an  annual  tribute  of 
five  hundred  oysters.  Such  is  the  internal  division  of  this 
country ;  and  you  may  easily  conceive  that  it  is  a  matter  of 
no  small  concern  to  us,  how  to  defend  ourselves  against  so 
many  nations,  and  at  least  how  to  live  among  them." 

"  How  many  may  you  be  in  all  ?  "  I  asked.  —  "  Above  a 
thousand."  —  "■What  arms  do  you  wear  ?  "  —  "None  but  fish 
bones."  —  "  We  had  best  then  attack  them,"  said  I,  "  seeing  we 
are  armed  and  they  are  not.  If  we  once  for  all  subdue  them, 
we  may  afterwards  live  without  disturbance." 

This  proposal  pleased  our  host.  We  therefore  repaired  to 
our  ship,  and  made  the  necessary  preparations.  An  occasion 
of  war  we  could  not  be  at  a  loss  for.  Our  host  had  no  more 
to  do  but  refuse  paying  the  tribute,  the  day  appointed  being 
near  at  hand  ;  and  this  was  accordingly  agreed  on.  They  sent 
to  demand  the  tribute.  He  sent  them  packing  without  their 
errand.  At  this  the  Psettapodes  and  Pagurades  were  so  in- 
censed that  with  great  clamor  they  fell  furiously  upon  the 
plantation  of  Skintharus,  —  for  that  was  the  name  of  our  new 
friend.  As  this  was  no  more  than  we  had  expected,  they  found 
us  in  a  condition  to  receive  them.  I  had  sent  out  a  detachment 
consisting  of  half  my  crev/,  five  and  twenty  in  number,  with 
orders  to  lie  in  ambuscade,  and  when  the  enemy  had  passed,  to 
attack  him  in  the  rear  ;  which  they  did  with  complete  success. 
I  then  with  the  rest  of  my  men,  also  five  and  twenty  strong 
(for  Skintharus  and  his  son  fought  v/ith  us),  marched  forward 
to  oppose  them  ;  and  when  we  had  come  to  close  quarters,  we 
fought  with  such  bravery  and  strength  that  after  an  obstinate 
struggle,  not  without  danger  on  our  part,  they  were  at  last 
beat  out  of  the  field,  and  pursued  to  their  dens.  Of  the  enemy 
were  slain  a  hundred  threescore  and  ten ;  on  our  side  we  lost 
only  one,  —  my  pilot,  who  was  run  through  the  shoulder  by  the 
rib  of  a  mullet. 

That  day,  and  the  night  after  it,  we  lodged  in  our  trenches, 
and  erected  the  dry  backbone  of  a  dolphin  as  a  trophy.  But 
the  rumor  of  this  engagement  having  in  the  mean  time  gone 
abroad,  we  found  the  next  morning  a  fresh  enemy  before  us  : 
the  Tarichanes  under  the  command  of  a  certain  Pelamus  in  the 
left  wing,  the  Thynnocephali  taking  the  right,  and  the  Carkino- 
cheires  occupying  the  center.     For  the  Tritonomendetes,  not 


AN   ANCIENT   (iULLIVEK.  695 

liking  to  have  anything  to  do  with  either  party,  chose  to 
remain  neuter.  We  came  up  to  the  enemy  close  by  the 
temple  of  Neptune,  where,  under  so  great  a  war  cry  that  the 
whole  whale  rebellowed  with  it  tlirough  its  immense  caverns, 
the  armies  rushed  to  combat.  Our  enemies,  however,  being 
not  much  better  than  naked  and  unarmed,  were  soon  put  to 
flight  and  chased  into  the  heart  of  the  forest,  Avhereby  we 
became  masters  of  the  country. 

They  sent  heralds  a  little  while  after,  to  fetch  away  their 
dead  and  propose  terms  of  accommodation ;  which,  so  far  from 
thinking  proper  to  agree  to,  we  marched  in  a  body  against 
them  the  very  next  day,  and  put  them  all  to  the  sword,  except 
the  Tritonomendetes,  who,  seeing  how  it  had  fared  with  their 
fellows,  ran  away  as  fast  as  they  could  to  the  whale's  gills,  and 
cast  themselves  headlong  into  the  sea. 

We  now  scoured  the  country,  and  finding  it  cleared  of  all 
enemies,  we  have  ever  since  lived  agreeably  together,  passing 
our  time  in  bodily  exercises  and  hunting,  tending  our  vines, 
gathering  the  fruits  of  the  trees,  and  living,  in  one  word,  like 
people  who  make  themselves  very  comfortable  in  a  spacious 
prison  which  they  cannot  get  out  of.  In  this  manner  we  spent 
a  year  and  eight  months. 

On  the  fifteenth  day  of  the  ninth  month,  however,  at  the 
second  opening  of  the  wdiale's  chops  (for  this  he  did  once  every 
hour,  by  which  periodical  gaping  we  computed  the  hours  of  the 
day),  we  heard  a  great  crj'^,  and  a  noise  like  that  of  sailors,  and 
the  dashing  of  oars.  Not  a  little  alarmed,  we  crept  forward  to 
the  jaws  of  the  monster,  where,  standing  between  the  teeth, 
where  everything  might  be  seen,  we  beheld  one  of  the  most 
astonishing  spectacles,  far  sur^Dassing  all  that  I  had  ever  seen 
in  my  whole  life  ;  men  who  were  five  hundred  feet  in  stature, 
and  came  sailing  on  islands,  as  if  they  had  been  on  shix3- 
board.  I  am  aware  that  what  I  am  saying  will  be  thought 
incredible,  yet  I  cannot  help  proceeding  :  it  must  out.  These 
islands  were  indeed  of  considerable  length,  one  Avith  another 
about  eighteen  miles  in  circumference  ;  but  proportionally  not 
very  high.  Upon  each  of  them  were  some  eight  and  twenty 
rowers,  who,  sitting  in  two  rows  on  both  sides,  rowed  with 
huge  cypresses,  having  their  branches  and  leaves  on.  In  the 
after  part  of  the  ship  (if  I  may  so  terra  it)  stood  the  pilot  on 
a  high  hill,  managing  a  brazen  rudder  that  might  be  perhaps  six 
hundred  feet  long.     On  the  forecastle  about  forty  of  them  were 


596  AN   ANCIENT   GULLIVER. 

standing,  armed  for  war,  and  looking  in  all  respects  like  men, 
excepting  that  instead  of  liair  they  had  flames  of  fire  on  their 
heads,  and  therefore  had  no  occasion  for  a  helmet.  The  place 
of  sails  on  each  of  these  islands  was  supplied  by  a  thick  forest, 
on  which  the  wind  rushing,  drove  and  turned  the  island,  how 
and  whither  the  pilot  would.  By  the  rowers  stood  one  that 
had  the  command  over  them ;  and  these  islands  moved  by  the 
help  of  the  oar,  like  so  many  galleys,  with  the  greatest  velocity. 

At  first  we  saw  only  two  or  three  ;  by  degrees,  however, 
perhaps  six  hundred  came  in  sight ;  and  after  forming  them- 
selves in  two  lines,  they  began  to  engage  in  a  regular  sea  fight. 
Many  ran  foul  of  each  other  by  the  stern  with  such  force  that 
not  a  few  were  overset  by  the  violence  of  the  shock,  and  went 
to  the  bottom.  Others  got  entangled  together,  and  obstinately 
maintained  the  fight  with  equal  bravery  and  ardor,  and  could 
not  easily  be  parted.  The  combatants  on  the  foredeck  showed 
the  most  consummate  valor,  leaped  into  the  enemy's  ships,  and  cut 
down  all  before  them,  for  no  quarter  was  given.  Instead  of 
grappling  irons,  they  hurled  enormous  polypi  fast  tied  to  thick 
ropes,  which  clung  to  the  forest,  with  their  numerous  arms, 
and  thus  kept  the  island  from  moving.  The  shot  they  made 
use  of,  and  with  which  they  sadly  wounded  one  another,  were 
oysters  one  of  which  would  have  completely  filled  a  wagon, 
and  sponges  each  big  enough  to  cover  an  acre  of  ground. 

By  what  we  could  gather  from  their  mutual  shouts,  the 
commander  of  one  fleet  was  called  ^olocentaurus,  and  that  of 
the  other  Thalassopotes  ;  and  the  occasion  of  the  war,  as  it 
appeared,  was  given  by  Thalassopotes,  who  accused  ^olocen- 
taurus  of  having  stolen  several  shoals  of  dolphins  from  him. 
Certain  it  is,  that  the  iEolocentaurian  party  came  off  victo- 
rious, having  sunk  nearly  a  hundred  and  fifty  of  their  enemy's 
islands,  and  captured  three  others,  with  all  the  men  upon  them  ; 
the  rest  sheered  off,  and  made  their  escape.  The  conquerors, 
after  pursuing  them  for  some  time,  returned  towards  evening 
to  the  wrecks,  made  prizes  of  most  of  them,  and  got  up  their 
own  islands  ;  for  in  the  engagement  no  fewer  than  eighty 
had  gone  down.  This  done,  they  nailed  one  of  the  islands 
to  the  head  of  the  whale  as  a  monument  of  the  victory,  and 
passed  the  night  in  the  wake  of  the  monster,  after  fastening 
the  ship  to  him  with  haw  sers,  having  previously  hooked  their 
anchors  into  his  sides ;  for  they  had  with  them  anchors  im- 
mensely large  and  strong,  all  made  of  glass.     On  the  follow- 


AGAMEMXON,        '  597 

ing  day  they  got  out  upon  the  back  of  the  whale,  sacrificed  to 
their  deities,  buried  their  dead  in  it,  and  then  set  sail  with  great 
jubilation. 

»o><Ko«— — 

FROM  yESCHYLUS'   "AGAMEMNON/" 

Version  of  EDWARD  FITZGERALD. 

[iEscHTLus:  The  earliest  of  the  Greek  tragic  poets;  born  at  Eleusis  in 
Attica,  li.c,  525.  He  fought  at  the  battles  of  Marathon,  Salamis,  and  Plataea, 
and  in  his  twenty-fifth  year  appeared  as  a  writer  of  tragedies,  although  he  did 
not  win  a  first  prize  until  b.c.  485.  lie  maintained  his  supremacy  until  his 
defeat  by  the  younger  Sophocles,  when  he  retired  in  disgust  to  Gela  in  Sicily 
(B.C.  459),  and  died  there  a  few  years  later,  jEschylus  is  called  "the  father 
of  Greek  Tragedy  "  on  account  of  the  many  improvements  he  introduced  in  the 
form  of  the  drama.  Of  his  seventy  tragedies  there  are  extant  only  seven :  "  The 
Persians,"  "Seven  against  Thebes,"  "The  Suppliants,"  "  Prometheus  Bound," 
and  the  famous  Orestcan  trilogy,  consisting  of  "Agamemnon,"  "The  Choe- 
phori,"  and  "The  Eumenides."] 

Clytemnestm  receives  Agamemnon  on  Ids  Return  from  the  Sack  of  Troy,  loith 
Priam's  Daughter  Cassandra  a  Prisoner. 

Clytemnestra  — 

Down  from  the  chariot  thou  standest  in, 

Crowned  with  the  flaming  towers  of  Troy,  descend, 

And  to  this  palace,  rich  indeed  with  thee, 

But  beggar-poor  without,  return !    And  ye. 

My  women,  carpet  all  the  way  before, 

From  the  triumphal  carriage  to  the  door. 

With  all  the  gold  and  purple  in  the  chest 

Stored  these  ten  years ;  and  to  what  purpose  stored, 
Unless  to  strew  the  footsteps  of  their  Lord 
Returning  to  his  unexpected  rest ! 

Agamemnon  — 

Daughter  of  Leda,  Mistress  of  my  house. 

Beware  lest  loving  Welcome  of  your  Lord, 

Measuring  itself  by  its  protracted  absence, 

Exceed  the  bound  of  rightful  compliment. 

And  better  left  to  other  lips  than  yours. 

Address  me  not,  address  me  not,  I  say 

With  dust-adoring  adidatiou,  meeter 

For  some  barbarian  Despot  from  his  slave ; 

Nor  with  invidious  Purple  strew  my  way, 

Fit  only  for  the  footstep  of  a  God 

Lighting  from  Heaven  to  earth.     Let  whoso  will 

'  By  permission  of  Mr.  Bernard  Quaritch. 


598  AGAMEMNON. 

Trample  their  glories  underfoot,  not  I. 
Woman,  I  charge  you,  honor  me  no  more 
Than  as  the  man  I  am  ;  if  honor-worth, 
Needing  no  other  trapping  but  the  fame 
Of  the  good  deed  I  clothe  myself  withal ; 
And  knowing  that,  of  all  their  gifts  to  man, 
No  greater  gift  than  Self-sobriety 
The  Gods  vouchsafe  him  in  the  race  of  life : 
Which,  after  thus  far  running,  if  I  reach 
The  goal  in  peace,  it  shall  be  well  for  me. 

Cbjtemnestra  — 

Why,  how  think  you  old  Priam  would  have  walked 
Had  he  returned  to  Troy  your  conqueror, 
As  you  to  Hellas  his  ? 

Agamemnon  —  A'^liat  then  ?    Perhaps 

Voluptuary  Asiatic-like, 
On  gold  and  purple. 

Clytemnestra  —  Well,  and  grudging  this. 

When  all  that  out  before  your  footsteps  flows 
Ebbs  back  into  the  treasury  again ; 
Think  how  much  more,  had  Pate  the  tables  turned, 
Irrevocably  from  those  coffers  gone. 
For  those  barbarian  feet  to  walk  upon. 
To  buy  your  ransom  back  ! 

Agamemnon —  Enough,  enough! 

I  know  my  reason. 

Clytemnestra—  What!  the  jealous  God  ? 

Or,  peradventure,  yet  more  envious  man.  ? 

Agamemnon  — 

And  that  of  no  small  moment. 

Clytemnestra  —  No ;  the  one 

Sure  proof  of  having  won  what  others  would. 

Agamemnon  — 

No  matter  —  Strife  but  ill  becomes  a  woman. 

Clytemnestra  — 

And  frank  submission  to  her  simple  Avish 
How  well  becomes  the  Soldier  in  his  strength ! 

Agamemnon  — 

And  I  must  then  submit  ? 

Clytemnestra—  Ay,  Agamemnon, 

Deny  me  not  this  first  Desire  on  this 
Pirst  Morning  of  your  long-desired  Return. 

Agamemnon  — 

But  not  till  I  have  put  these  sandals  off. 
That,  slavelike,  too  officiously  would  pander 


AGAMEMNON.  699 

Between  the  purple  and  my  dainty  feet, 
i'or  fear,  for  fear  indeed,  some  Jealous  eye 
From  heaven  above,  or  earth  below,  should  strike 
The  Man  who  walks  the  earth  Immortal-like. 
So  much  for  that.     For  this  same  royal  maid, 
Cassandra,  daughter  of  King  Priamus, 
Whom,  as  the  flower  of  all  the  spoil  of  Troy, 
The  host  of  Hellas  dedicates  to  me ; 
Entreat  her  gently ;  knowing  well  that  none 
But  submit  hardly  to  a  foreign  yoke ; 
And  those  of  Royal  blood  most  hardly  brook. 
That  if  I  sin  thus  trampling  underfoot 

A  woof  in  which  the  Heavens  themselves  are  dyed, 
The  jealous  God  may  less  resent  his  crime, 
Who  mingles  human  mercy  with  his  pride. 
Clytemnestra  — 

The  Sea  there  is,  and  shall  the  sea  be  dried  ? 
Fount  inexhaustibler  of  purple  grain 
Than  all  the  wardrobes  of  the  world  could  drain ; 
And  Earth  there  is,  whose  dusky  closets  hide 

The  precious  metal  wherewith  not  in  vain 
The  Gods  themselves  this  Royal  house  provide ; 
For  what  occasion  worthier,  or  more  meet, 
Than  now  to  carpet  the  victorious  feet 
Of  Him  who,  thus  far  having  done  their  will, 
Shall  now  their  last  About-to-be  fulfill  ? 
[Agamemnon  descends  from  his  chariot,  and  goes  with  Cly- 
temnestra into  the  house,  Cassandka  remaining. 

Chorus. 
About  the  nations  runs  a  saw, 

That  Over-good  ill  fortune  breeds ; 
And  true  that,  by  the  mortal  law, 

Fortune  her  spoilt  children  feeds 

To  surfeit,  such  as  sows  the  seeds 
Of  Insolence,  that,  as  it  grows. 
The  flower  of  Self-repentance  blows. 
And  true  that  Virtue  often  leaves 

The  marble  walls  and  roofs  of  kings, 
And  underneath  the  poor  man's  eaves 

On  smoky  rafter  folds  her  wings. 

Thus  the  famous  city,  flown 

With  insolence,  and  overgrown, 

Is  humbled :  all  her  splendor  blown 


600  AGAMEMXOK 

To  smoke  :  her  glory  laid  in  dust ; 
AVho  shall  say  by  doom  unjust  ? 
But  should  He  to  whom  the  wrong 
Was  done,  and  Zeus  himself  made  strong 
To  do  the  vengeance  He  decreed  — 
At  last  returning  with  the  meed 

He  wrought  for  —  should  the  jealous  Eye 
That  blights  full-blown  prosperity 
Pursue  him  —  then  indeed,  indeed, 
Man  should  hoot  and  scare  aloof 
Good  fortune  lighting  on  the  roof ; 
Yea,  even  Virtue's  self  forsake 
If  Grlory  followed  in  the  wake ; 
Seeing  bravest,  best,  and  wisest 
But  the  playthings  of  a  day. 
Which  a  shadow  can  trip  over, 
And  a  breath  can  puff  away. 
Clytemnestra  [^reentering']  — 

Yet  for  a  moment  let  me  look  on  her  — 
This,  then,  is  Priam's  daughter  — 
Cassandra,  and  a  Prophetess,  whom  Zeus 
Has  given  into  my  hands  to  minister 
Among  my  slaves.     Didst  thou  prophesy  that  ? 
Well  —  some  more  famous  have  so  fallen  before  — ■ 
Even  Heracles,  the  son  of  Zeus,  they  say 
Was  sold,  and  bowed  his  shoulder  to  the  yoke. 
Chorus  — 

And,  if  needs  must  a  captive,  better  far 
Of  some  old  house  that  affluent  Time  himself 
Has  taught  the  measure  of  prosperity. 
Than  drunk  with  sudden  superfluity. 
Clytemnestra  — 

Even  so.     You  hear  ?     Therefore  at  once  descend 
From  that  triumphal  chariot  —  And  yet 
She  keeps  her  station  still,  her  laurel  on, 
Disdaining  to  make  answer. 
Chorus —  iSTay,  perhaps, 

Like  some  stray  SAvallow  blown  across  the  seaS; 
Interpreting  no  twitter  but  her  own. 
Clytemnestra  — 

But,  if  barbarian,  still  interpreting 
The  universal  language  of  the  hand. 
Chorus  — 

Which  yet  again  she  does  not  seem  to  see, 
Staring  before  her  with  wide-open  eyes 
As  in  a  trance. 


AGAMEMNON.  001 

Chjtemnestra —  Ay,  ay,  a  prophetess  — 

Phoebus  Apollo's  ininion  once  —  Whose  now  ? 
A  time  will  come  for  her.     See  you  to  it : 
A  greater  business  now  is  on  my  hands ; 
For  lo !  the  fire  of  Sacrifice  is  lit, 
And  the  grand  victim  by  the  altar  stands. 

[Exit  Clytemnestka. 
Chorus  [^conUmdng^. 

Still  a  muttered  and  half-blind 
Sxiperstition  haunts  mankind, 

That,  by  some  divine  decree 
Yet  by  mortal  undivined, 
Mortal  Fortune  must  not  over- 
Leap  the  bound  he  cannot  see ; 
For  that  even  wisest  labor 

Lofty-building,  builds  to  fall, 
Evermore  a  jealous  neighbor 

Undermining  floor  and  wall. 
So  that  on  the  smoothest  water 

Sailing,  in  a  cloudless  sky, 
The  wary  merchant  overboard 
Flings  something  of  his  precious  hoard 

To  pacify  the  jealous  eye. 
That  will  not  suffer  man  to  swell 
Over  human  measure.     Well, 
As  the  Gods  have  ordered  we 
Must  take  —  I  know  not  —  let  it  be. 
But,  by  rule  of  retribution, 

Hidden,  too,  from  human  eyes, 
Fortune  in  her  revolution, 

If  she  fall,  shall  fall  to  rise: 
And  the  hand  of  Zeus  dispenses 

Even  measure  in  the  main : 
One  short  harvest  recompenses 

With  a  glut  of  golden  grain ; 
So  but  men  in  patience  wait 

Fortune's  counter  revolution 
Axled  on  eternal  Fate ; 
And  the  Sisters  three  that  twine, 
Cut  not  short  the  vital  line ; 
For  indeed  the  purple  seed 
Of  life  once  shed  — 
Cassandra  —  Phoebus  Apollo ! 

Chorus  —  Hark ! 

The  lips  at  last  unlocking. 


602  AGAMExMNOX. 

Cassandra  —  Phoebus !    Phoebus ! 

Chorus  — 

Well,  Avhat  of  Phoebus,  maiden  ?  though  a  name 

'Tis  but  disparagement  to  call  upon 

In  misery. 
Cassandra —     Apollo!     Apollo!     Again! 

Oh,  the  burning  arrow  through  the  brain ! 
Phoebus  Apollo !     Apollo  ! 
Chorus—  Seemingly 

Possessed  indeed  —  whether  by  — 
Cassandra  —  Phoebus !     Plioebus ! 

Thorough  trampled  ashes,  blood,  and  fiery  rain. 

Over  water  seething,  and  behind  the  breathing 

"Warhorse  in  the  darkness  —  till  you  rose  again  — 

Took  the  helm  —  took  the  rein  — 
Chorus  — 

As  one  that  half  asleep  at  dawn  recalls 

A  night  of  Horror ! 
Cassandra  — 

Hither,  whither,  Phoebus  ?     And  with  whom, 

Leading  me,  lighting  me  — 
Chorus  —  I  can  answer  that  — • 

Cassandra  — 

Down  to  what  slaughterhouse  ? 

Poll !  the  smell  of  carnage  through  the  door 

Scares  me  from  it  —  drags  me  toward  it  — 

Phoebus  !     Apollo !     Apollo ! 
Chorus  — 

One  of  the  dismal  prophet  pack,  it  seems. 

That  hunt  the  trail  of  blood.     But  here  at  fault  — 

This  is  no  den  of  slaughter,  but  the  house 

Of  Agamemnon. 
Cassandra —  Down  upon  the  towers 

Phantoms  of  two  mangled  Children  hover  —  and  a  famished 
man. 

At  an  empty  table  glaring,  seizes  and  devours ! 
Chorus  — 

Thyestes  and  his  children !     Strange  enough 

For  any  maiden  from  abroad  to  know. 

Or,  knowing  — 
Cassandra  —  And  look !  in  the  chamber  below 

The  terrible  Woman,  listening,  watching, 

Under  a  mask,  preparing  the  blow 

In  the  fold  of  her  robe  — 
Chorus  —  Nay,  but  again  at  fault : 


AGAMEMNON.  603 

For  in  the  tragic  story  of  this  House — ■ 

Unless,  indeed,  the  fatal  Helen  — 

No  woman  — 
Cassandra  —  No  Woman  —  Tisiphone !     Daughter 

Of  Tartarus  —  love-grinning  Woman  above, 

Dragon-tailed  under  —  lioney-tongued,  Harpy-clawed, 

Into  the  glittering  meshes  of  slaughter 

She  wheedles,  entices,  him  into  the  poisonous 

Fold  of  the  serpent  — 
Chorus  —  Peace,  mad  woman,  peace ! 

Whose  stony  lips  once  open  vomit  out 

Such  uncouth  horrors. 
Cassandra —  I  tell  you  the  lioness 

Slaughters  the  Lion  asleep ;  and  lifting 

Her  blood-dripping  fangs  buried  deep  in  his  mane, 

Glaring  about  her  insatiable,  bellowing, 

Bounds  hither  —  Phoebus,  Apollo,  Apollo,  Apollo! 

Whither  have  you  led  me,  under  night  alive  with  lire, 

Through  the  trampled  ashes  of  the  city  of  my  sire, 

From  my  slaughtered  kinsmen,  fallen  throne,  insulted  shrine. 

Slavelike  to  be  butchered,  the  daughter  of  a  Koyal  line  ? 
Chorus  — 

And  so  returning,  like  a  nightingale 

Keturning  to  the  j)assionate  note  of  woe 

By  which  the  silence  first  Avas  broken ! 
Cassandra  —  Oh, 

A  nightingale,  a  nightingale,  indeed, 

That,  as  she  "  Itys !  Itys  !  Itys ! "  so 

I  "  Helen !  Helen !  Helen !  "  having  sung 

Amid  my  people,  noAV  to  those  who  flung 

And  trampled  on  the  nest,  and  slew  the  young. 

Keep  crying  "  Blood !  blood !  blood ! "  and  none  will  heed ! 

Now  what  for  me  is  this  prophetic  weed. 

And  what  for  me  is  this  immortal  crown. 

Who  like  a  wild  swan  from  Scamander's  reed 

Chanting  her  death  song  float  Cocy tus-down  ? 

There  let  the  fatal  Leaves  to  perish  lie  ! 

To  perish,  or  enrich  some  other  brow 

With  that  all-fatal  gift  of  Prophecy 

They  palpitated  under  Him  who  now, 

Checking  his  flaming  chariot  in  mid  sky, 

With  divine  irony  sees  disadorn 

The  wretch  his  love  has  made  the  people's  scorn, 

The  raving  quean,  the  mountebank,  the  scold, 

Who,  wrapt  up  in  the  ruin  she  foretold 


004  AGAMEMNOX. 

With  those  who  would  not  listen,  now  descends 

To  that  dark  kingdom  where  his  empire  ends. 
Chorus  — 

Strange  that  Apollo  should  the  laurel  wreath 

Of  Prophecy  he  crowned  your  head  Avithal 

Himself  disgrace.     But  something  have  we  heard 

Of  some  divine  revenge  for  slighted  love. 
Cassandra  — 

Ay  —  and  as  if  in  malice  to  attest 

With  one  expiring  beam  of  Second-sight 

Wherewith  his  victim  he  has  cursed  and  blest, 
Ere  quenched  forever  in  descending  night ; 

As  from  behind  a  veil  no  longer  peeps 

The  Bride  of  Truth,  nor  from  their  hidden  deeps 

Darkle  the  waves  of  Prophecy,  but  run 

Clear  from  the  very  fountain  of  the  Sun. 

Ye  called  —  and  rightly  called — me  bloodhound:  ye 

That  like  old  lagging  dogs  in  self-despite 

Must  follow  up  the  scent  with  me  ;  Avith  me. 

Who  having  smelt  the  blood  about  this  house 

Already  spilt,  now  bark  of  more  to  be. 

For,  though  you  hear  them  not,  the  infernal  Choir 

Whose  dread  antiphony  forsAvears  the  lyre. 

Who  now  are  chanting  of  that  grim  carouse 

Of  blood  with  which  the  children  fed  their  Sire, 

Shall  never  from  their  dreadful  chorus  stop 

Till  all  be  counter-pledged  to  the  last  drop. 
Chorus  — 

Hinting  at  what  indeed  has  long  been  done, 

And  widely  spoken,  no  Apollo  needs ; 

And  for  what  else  you  aim  at  —  still  in  dark 

And  mystic  language  — 
Cassandra —  Nay,  then,  in  the  speech, 

She  that  reproved  me  was  so  glib  to  teach  — 

Before  yon  Sun  a  hand's  breadth  in  the  skies 

He  moves  in  shall  have  moved,  those  age-sick  eyes 

Shall  open  wide  on  Agamemnon  slain 

Before  your  very  feet.     Now,  speak  I  plain  '? 
Chorus  — 

Blasphemer,  hush ! 
Cassandra —  Ay,  hush  the  mouth  you  may, 

But  not  the  murder. 
Chorus —  Murder!  But  the  Gods  — 

Cassayidra  —  The  Gods ! 

"Who  even  now  are  their  accomplices. 


AGAMEMNON.  605 

Chorus — 

Woman! —  Accomplices  —  With  whom  ?  — 

Cassandra — ■  With  Her, 

Who  brandishing  aloft  the  ax  of  doom, 

That  just  has  laid  one  victim  at  her  feet, 
Looks  round  her  for  that  other,  without  whom 

The  banquet  of  revenge  were  incomplete. 
Yet  ere  I  fall  will  I  prelude  the  strain 
Of  Triumph,  that  in  full  I  shall  repeat 
When,  looking  from  the  twilight  Underland, 
I  welcome  Her  as  she  descends  amain, 
Gashed  like  myself,  but  by  a  dearer  hand. 
For  that  old  murdered  Lion  with  me  slain, 
Rolling  an  awful  eyeball  through  the  gloom 
He  stalks  about  of  Hades  up  to  Day, 
Shall  rouse  the  whelp  of  exile  far  away, 
His  only  authentic  offspring,  ere  the  grim 
Wolf  crept  between  his  Lioness  and  him ; 
Who  with  one  stroke  of  Eetribution,  her 
Who  did  the  deed,  and  her  adulterer, 
Shall  drive  to  hell ;  and  then,  himself  pursued 
By  the  winged  Furies  of  his  Mother's  blood. 
Shall  drag  about  the  yoke  of  Madness,  till 
Eeleased,  when  Nemesis  has  gorged  her  fill, 
By  that  same  God,  in  whose  prophetic  ray 
Viewing  To-morrow  mirrored  as  To-day, 
And  that  this  House  of  Atreus  the  same  wine 
Themselves  must  drink  they  brewed  for  me  and  mine ; 
I  close  my  lips  forever  with  one  prayer, 
That  the  dark  Warder  of  the  World  below 
Would  ope  the  portal  at  a  single  blow. 

Gliorus. 
And  the  raving  voice,  that  rose 

Out  of  silence  into  speech 

Overshooting  human  reach. 
Back  to  silence  foams  and  blows, 

Leaving  all  my  bosom  heaving  — 
Wrath  and  raving  all,  one  knows; 
Prophet-seeming,  but  if  ever 

Of  the  Prophet  God  possest. 

By  the  Prophet's  self-confest 
God-abandoned  —  woman's  shrill 
Anguish  into  tempest  rising, 
Louder  as  less  listened. 

Still  — 


606  AGAMEMNON. 

Spite  of  Eeason,  spite  of  Will, 

What  unwelcome,  what  unholy, 

Vapor  of  Foreboding,  slowly 

Rising  from  the  central  soul's 

Recesses,  all  in  darkness  rolls  ? 

What !  shall  Age's  torpid  ashes 

Kindle  at  the  ransom  spark 

Of  a  raving  maiden  ?  —  Hark  ! 

What  was  that  behind  the  wall  ? 

A  heavy  blow  —  a  groan  —  a  fall  — 

Some  one  crying  —  Listen  further  — • 

Hark  again  then,  crying  "Murder!'' 

Some  one  —  who  then ?     Agamemnon  ? 

Agamemnon  ?  —  Hark  again ! 

Murder !  murder !  murder !  murder ! 

Help  within  there  !     Help  without  there ! 

Break  the  doors  in !  — 
Chjtemnestra  [appearing  from  ivithin,  where  lies  Agamejmnon 
dead']  — 

Spare  your  pain. 
Look  !  I  who  but  just  now  before  you  all 
Boasted  of  loyal  wedlock  unashamed, 
iSTow  unashamed  dare  boast  the  contrar}^ 
Why,  how  else  should  one  compass  the  defeat 
Or  him  who  underhand  contrives  one's  own, 
Unless  by  such  a  snare  of  circumstance 
As,  once  enmeshed,  he  never  should  break  through  ? 
The  blow  now  struck  was  not  the  random  blow 
Of  sudden  passion,  but  with  slow  device 
Prepared,  and  leveled  with  the  hand  of  time. 
I  say  it  wdro  devised  it ;  I  who  did ; 
And  now  stand  here  to  face  the  consequence. 
Ay,  in  a  deadlier  web  than  of  that  loom 
In  whose  blood-purple  he  divined  a  doom, 
And  feared  to  walk  upon,  but  walked  at  last, 
Entangling  him  inextricably  fast, 
[  smote  him,  and  he  bellowed;  and  again 
I  smote,  and  with  a  groan  his  knees  gave  way ; 
And,  as  he  fell  before  me,  with  a  third 
And  last  libation  from  the  deadly  mace 
I  pledged  the  crowning  draught  to  Hades  due, 
That  subterranean  Savior  —  of  the  Dead! 
At  which  he  spouted  up  the  Ghost  in  such 
A  burst  of  purple  as,  bespattered  with. 
No  less  did  I  rejoice  than  the  green  ear 


AGAMEMNON.  607 

Rejoices  in  the  largess  of  the  shies 
That  fleeting  Iris  follows  as  it  flies. 

Chorus  — 

Oh,  woman,  woman,  woman ! 
By  what  accursed  root  or  weed 
Of  Earth,  or  Sea,  or  Hell,  inflamed, 
Darest  stand  before  us  unashamed 
And,  daring  do,  dare  glory  in  the  deed ! 

Clytemnestra  — 

Oh,  that  I  dreamed  the  fall  of  Troy,  as  you 

Belike  of  Troy's  destroyer.     Dream  or  not. 

Here  lies  your  King  —  my  Husband  —  Agamemnon, 

Slain  by  this  right  hand's  righteous  handicraft. 

Like  you,  or  like  it  not,  alike  to  me ; 

To  me  alike  whether  or  not  you  share 

In  making  due  libation  over  this 

Great  Sacrifice  —  if  ever  due,  from  him 

Who,  having  charged  so  deep  a  bowl  of  blood, 

Himself  is  forced  to  drink  it  to  the  dregs. 

Chorus  — 

Woman,  what  blood  but  that  of  Troy,  which  Zeus 

Foredoomed  for  expiation  by  his  hand 

For  whom  the  penalty  was  pledged  ?     And  nov/, 

Over  his  murdered  body.  Thou 

Talk  of  libation !  —  Thou !     Thou !     Thou ! 

But  mark !     Not  thine  of  sacred  wine 

Over  his  head,  but  ours  on  thine 

Of  curse,  and  groan,  and  torn-up  stone, 

To  slay  or  storm  thee  from  the  gate. 

The  City's  curse,  the  People's  hate, 

Execrate,  exterminate  — 

Clytemnestra  — 

Ay,  ay,  to  me  how  lightly  you  adjudge 
Exile  or  death,  and  never  had  a  word 
Of  counter  condemnation  for  Him  there  j 
Who,  when  the  field  throve  with  the  proper  flock 
For  Sacrifice,  forsooth  let  be  the  beast. 
And  with  his  own  hand  his  own  innocent 
Blood,  and  the  darling  passion  of  my  womb  — 
Her  slew  —  to  lull  a  peevish  wind  of  Thrace. 
And  him  who  cursed  the  city  with  that  crime 
You  hail  with  acclamation ;  but  on  me. 
Who  only  do  the  work  you  should  have  done, 
You  turn  the  ax  of  condemnation.     Well ; 
Threaten  you  me,  I  take  the  challenge  up ; 


G08  AGAMEMNON. 

Here  stand  we  face  to  face;  win  Thou  the  game, 
Aud  take  the  stake  you  aim  at ;  but  if  I  — 
Then,  by  the  Godhead  that  for  me  decides. 
Another  lesson  you  shall  learn,  though  late. 
Chorus  — 

Man-mettled  evermore,  aud  now 
Manslaughter-maddened !     Shameless  brow  ! 
But  do  you  think  us  deaf  and  blind 

Not  to  know,  and  long  ago. 
What  Passion  under  all  the  prate 
Of  holy  justice  made  thee  hate 
Where  Love  was  due,  and  love  where  — 
Clytemnestra  —  ^^ay,  then,  hear ! 

By  this  dead  Husband,  and  the  reconciled 
Avenging  Fury  of  my  slaughtered  child, 
I  swear  I  will  not  reign  the  slave  of  fear 
While  he  that  holds  me,  as  I  hold  him,  dear. 
Kindles  his  lire  upon  this  hearth :  xaj  fast 
Shield  for  the  time  to  come,  as  of  the  past. 
Yonder  lies  he  that  in  the  honeyed  arms 
Of  his  Chryseides  under  Troy  walls 
Dishonored  mine  :  and  this  last  laureled  Avench, 
Prophetic  messmate  of  the  rower's  bench, 
Thus  far  in  triumph  his,  with  him  along 
Shall  go,  together  chanting  one  death  song 
To  Hades  —  fitting  garnish  for  the  feast 
Which  Pate's  avenging  hand  through  mine  hath  drest. 
Chorus  —  Woe,  woe,  woe,  woe ! 

That  death  as  sudden  as  the  blow 

That  laid  Thee  low  would  me  lay  low 

Where  low  thou  liest,  my  sovereign  Lord! 

Who  ten  years  long  to  Trojan  sword 

Devoted,  and  to  storm  aboard, 
In  one  ill  woman's  cause  accurst, 

Liest  slain  before  thy  palace  door 
By  one  accursedest  and  worst ! 
Clytemnestra  — 

Call  not  on  Death,  old  man,  that,  called  or  no, 

Comes  quick ;  nor  spend  your  ebbing  breath  on  me, 

Nor  Helena :  who  but  as  arrows  be 
Sliot  by  the  hidden  hand  behind  the  bow. 
Chorus — Alas,  alas!  The  Curse  I  know 

That  round  the  House  of  Atreus  clings, 

About  the  roof,  about  the  w^alls, 
Shrouds  it  Avith  his  sable  wings  ; 


AGAMEMNON.  609 

And  still  as  each  new  victim  falls, 

And  gorged  with  kingly  gore, 
Down  on  the  bleeding  carcass  flings, 
And  croaks  for  "  More,  more,  more  ! " 
Clytemnestra  — 

Ay,  now,  indeed,  you  harp  on  likelier  strings. 
Not  I,  nor  Helen,  but  that  terrible 
Alastor  of  old  Tantalus  in  Hell ; 
Who,  one  sole  actor  in  the  scene  begun 
By  him,  and  carried  down  from  sire  to  son, 
The  mask  of  Victim  and  Avenger  shifts : 
And,  for  a  last  catastrophe,  that  grim 

Guest  of  the  abominable  banquet  lifts 
His  head  from  Hell,  and  in  my  person  cries 
For  one  full-grown  sufficient  sacrifice, 

Requital  of  the  feast  prepared  for  him 
Of  his  own  flesh  and  blood  —  And  there  it  lies. 
Chorus  —         0  Agamemnon !  0  my  Lord ! 
Who,  after  ten  years  toiled ; 
After  barbarian  lance  and  sword 

Encountered,  fought,  and  foiled ; 
Returning  with  the  just  award 
Of  Glory,  thus  inglorious  by 
Thine  own  domestic  Altar  die, 
Fast  in  the  spider  meshes  coiled 
Of  Treason  most  abhorred ! 
Clytemnestra  — 

And  by  what  retribution  more  complete, 
Than,  having  in  the  meshes  of  deceit 
Enticed  my  child,  and  slain  her  like  a  fawn 
Upon  the  altar  ;  to  that  altar  drawn 
Himself,  like  an  unconscious  beast,  full-fed 
With  Conquest,  and  the  garland  on  his  head, 
Is  slain  ?  and  now,  gone  down  among  the  Ghost, 
Of  taken  Troy  indeed  may  make  the  most, 
But  not  one  unrequited  murder  boast. 
Chorus  — 

Oh,  Agamemnon,  dead,  dead,  dead,  dead,  dead ! 

What  hand,  what  pious  hand  shall  wash  the  wound 
Through  which  the  sacred  spirit  ebbed  and  fled ! 

With  reverend  care  composed,  and  to  the  ground 
Commit  the  mangled  form  of  Majesty, 

And  pour  the  due  libation  o'er  the  mound ! 
Clytemnestra  — 

This  hand,  that  struck  the  guilty  life  awa}''. 


610  AGAMEMNOJf. 

The  guiltless  carcass  in  the  dust  shall  lay 
With  due  solemnities  :  and  if  with  no 
Mock  tears,  or  howling  counterfeit  of  woe, 
On  this  side  earth ;  perhaps  the  innocent  thing, 
Whom  with  paternal  love  he  sent  before, 
Meeting  him  by  the  melancholy  shore, 
Her  arms  about  him  with  a  kiss  shall  fling, 
And  lead  him  to  his  shadowy  throne  below. 
Chorus — Alas  !  alas  !  the  fatal  rent 

Which  through  the  house  of  Atreus  went, 
Gapes  again ;  a  purple  rain 
Sweats  the  marble  floor,  and  falls 
From  the  tottering  roof  and  walls. 
The  Demon  heaving  under ;  gone 
The  master  prop  they  rested  on  : 
And  the  storm  once  more  awake 

Of  Nemesis ;  of  Nemesis 
Whose  fury  who  shall  slake ! 
(Jlytemnestra  — 

Even  I ;  who  by  this  last  grand  victim  hope 

The  Pyramid  of  Vengeance  so  to  cope, 

That  —  and  methinks  I  hear  him  in  the  deep 

Beneath  us  growling  toward  his  rest  —  the  steru 

Alastor  to  some  other  roof  may  turn. 
Leaving  us  here  at  last  in  peace  to  keep 
What  of  life's  harvest  yet  remains  to  reap. 
Chorus — Thou  to  talk  of  reaping  Peace 

Who  sowes'.  Murder !    Woman,  cease ! 

And,  despite  that  iron  face  — 

Iron  as  the  bloody  mace 

Thou  ber.rest  —  boasting  as  if  Vengeance 

Centered  in  that  hand  alone ; 
Know  that.  Fury  pledged  to  Fury, 
Vengeance  owes  himself  the  debts 
He  makes,  and  while  he  serves  thee,  whets 

His  knife  upon  another  stone, 
Against  thyself,  and  him  with  thee 
Colleaguing,  as  you  boast  to  be. 
The  tools  of  Fate.     But  Fate  is  Zeus ; 
Zeus  —  who  for  a  while  permitting 

Sin  to  prosper  in  his  name, 
Shall  vindicate  his  own  abuse  ; 
And  having  brought  his  secret  thought 
To  light,  shall  break  and  fling  to  shame 
The  baser  tools  with  which  he  wrought. 


AGAMEMNON.  611 

u^gisthus  — 

All  liail,  thou  daybreak  of  iny  just  revenge! 
In  "wiiicli,  as  waking  from  injurious  sleep, 
Methinks  I  recognize  the  Gods  enthroned 
In  the  bright  conclave  of  eternal  Justice, 
Ee vindicate  the  wrongs  of  man  to  man  ! 
For  see  thifi  man  —  so  dear  to  me  now  dead  — 
Caught  in  the  very  meshes  of  the  snare 
By  which  his  father  Atreus  netted  mine. 
For  that  same  Atreus  surely,  was  it  not  ? 
Who,  wrought  by  false  Suspicion  to  fixed  Hate, 
From  Argos  out  his  younger  brother  drove, 
My  sire  —  Thyestes — drove  him  like  a  wolf, 
Keeping  his  cubs  —  save  one  —  to  better  purpose. 
For  when  at  last  the  home-heartbroken  man 
Crept  humbly  back  again,  craving  no  more 
Of  his  own  country  than  to  breathe  its  air 
In  liberty,  and  of  her  fruits  as  much 
As  not  to  starve  withal  —  the  savage  King, 
AVith  damnable  alacrity  of  hate, 
And  reconciliation  of  revenge. 
Bade  him,  all  smiles,  to  supper  —  such  a  supper. 
Where  the  prime  dainty  was  —  my  brother's  flesh, 
So  maimed  and  dipt  of  human  likelihood. 
That  the  unsuspecting  Father,  light  of  heart, 
And  quick  of  appetite,  at  once  fell  to, 
And  ate  —  ate  —  v/hat,  with  savage  irony 
As  soon  as  eaten,  told  —  the  wretched  man 
Disgorging  with  a  shriek,  down  to  the  ground 
The  table  with  its  curst  utensil  dashed. 
And,  grinding  into  pieces  with  his  heel. 
Cried,  loud  enough  for  Heaven  and  Hell  to  hear, 
"  Thus  perish  all  the  race  of  Pleistlienes  :  " 
And  now  behold !  the  son  of  that  same  Atreus 
By  me  the  son  of  that  Thyestes  slain 
Whom  the  kind  brother,  sparing  from  the  cook, 
Had  with  his  victim  packed  to  banishment ; 
Where  Nemesis  —  (so  sinners  from  some  nook. 
Whence  least  they  think  assailable,  assailed)  — 
Reared  me  from  infancy  till  fully  groAvn, 
To  claim  in  full  my  father's  bloody  due. 
Ay,  I  it  was  —  none  other — far  away 
Who  spun  the  thread,  which  gathering  day  by  day 
Mesh  after  mesh,  inch  upon  inch,  at  last 
■  Reached  him,  and  wound  about  him,  as  he  lay, 


612  AGAMEMNON. 

And  in  the  supper  of  his  smoking  Troy 
Devoured  his  own  destruction  —  scarce  condign 
Return  for  that  his  Father  forced  on  mine. 
Chorus  — 

^^gisthus,  only  things  of  baser  breed 
Insult  the  fallen ;  fallen  too,  as  you  boast, 
By  one  who  planned  but  dared  not  do  the  deed. 
This  is  your  hour  of  triumph.     But  take  heed; 
The  blood  of  Atreus  is  not  all  outrun 
With  this  slain  King,  but  flowing  in  a  son, 
Who  saved  by  such  an  exile  as  your  own 
For  such  a  counter  retribution  — 
uEgisthns  —  Oh, 

You  then,  the  nether  benches  of  the  realm, 
Dare  open  tongue  on  those  who  rule  the  helm  ? 
Take  heed  yourselves  ;  for,  old  and  dull  of  wit, 
And  hardened  as  your  mouth  against  the  bit, 
Be  wise  in  time ;  kick  not  against  the  spurs ; 
Remembering  Princes  are  shrewd  taskmasters. 
Chorus  —     BcAvare  thysolf,  bewaring  me ; 

Rememjering  that,  too  sharply  stirred. 
The  spurrer  need  beware  the  spurred ; 
As  thou  of  me ;  whose  single  word 
Shall  rouse  the  City  —  yea,  the  very 
Stones  you  walk  upon,  in  thunder 
Gathering  o'er  your  head,  to  bury 
Thee  and  thine  Adultress  under ! 
uEgisthus — Raven,  uhat  with  croaking  jaws 
Unorphean,  undivine. 
After  you  no  City  draws ; 

And  if  any  vengeance,  mine 
Upon  your  withered  shoulders  — 
Chorus  —  Thine ! 

Who  daring  not  to  strike  the  blow 
Thy  worse  than  woman  craft  designed, 
To  worse  than  woman  — 
uErjisthus  —  Soldiers,  ho ! 

Clytemnestra  — 
Softly,  good  ^gisthus,  softly ;  let  the  sword  that  has  so 

deep 
Drunk  of  righteous  Retribution  now  within  the  scabbard 

sleep ! 
And  if  Nemesis  be  sated  with  the  blood  already  spilt. 
Even  so  let  us,  nor  carry  lawful  Justice  into  Guilt. 
Sheathe  your  sword;  dismiss  your  spears;  and  you,  Old 
men,  your  howling  cease, 


SOPHOCLES 


THE  DOWNFALL  AND  DEATH  OF  KING  (EDIPUS.     613 

And,  ere  ill  blood  come  to  running,  each  unto  his  home  in 

peace, 
Recognizing  what  is  done  for  done  indeed,  as  done  it  is. 
And  husbanding  your  scanty  breath  to  pray  that  nothing 

more  amiss. 
Farewell.     Meanwhile,  you  and  I,  ^Egisthus,  shall  deliberate, 
When  the  storm  is  blowing  under,  how  to  settle  House  and 

State. 

THE  DOWNFALL  AND  DEATH  OF  KING  (EDIPUS^ 

By  SOPHOCLES. 

(Version  of  Edward  Fitzgerald.) 

[Sophocles  :  A  famous  Greek  tragic  poet ;  boru  at  Colonus,  near  Athens, 
probably  in  u.c.  496.  He  received  a  careful  education,  and  at  his  first  appear- 
ance as  a  tragic  poet,  when  only  twenty-seven  years  old,  gained  a  victory  over 
the  veteran  JEschylus.  From  that  time  until  extreme  old  age  he  maintained  his 
preeminence,  obtaining  the  first  prize  more  than  twenty  times.  He  also  took 
part  in  political  affairs,  and  during  the  Samian  war  (b.c.  440)  was  one  of  the 
ten  generals  acting  jointly  with  Pericles.  Of  the  one  hundred  and  thirty  dramas 
ascribed  to  him  only  seven  are  preserved  complete:  "Trachiniae,"  "Ajax," 
"  Philoctetes,"  "Electra,"  "(Edipus  Tyrannus,"  "CEdipus  at  Colonus,"  and 
"  Antigone."  Among  the  innovations  which  Sophocles  made  in  the  drama  were 
the  introduction  of  a  third  actor,  the  increase  of  the  number  of  the  chorus  from 
twelve  to  fifteen,  and  the  perfection  of  costumes  and  decoration.] 

(Edipus,  Priest,  and  Suppliants  assembled  before  his  Palace  Gate^ 

Chorus. 
CEdipus  — 

Children  of  Cadmus,  and  as  mine  to  me, 

A¥hen  all  that  of  the  plague-struck  city  can 

With  lamentation  loud,  and  sacrifice, 

Beset  the  shrines  and  altars  of  the  Gods 

Through  street  and  market,  by  the  Temples  twain 

Of  Pallas,  and  before  the  Tomb  that  shrouds 

Ismenus  his  prophetic  ashes  —  why 

Be  you  thus  gathered  at  my  palace  door. 

Mute,  with  the  Suppliant's  olive  branch  in  hand  ? 

Asking,  or  deprecating,  what  ?  which  I, 

Not  satisfied  from  other  lips  to  learn. 

Myself  am  come  to  hear  it  from  your  own. 

You,  whose  grave  aspect  and  investiture 

Announce  the  chosen  oracle  of  all, 

Tell  me  the  purport :  I  am  here,  you  see, 

As  King,  and  Father  of  his  people  too, 

'  By  permission  of  Mr.  "W.  Aldis  Wright, 


014     THE  DOWNFALL  AND  DEATH  OF  KING  CEDIPUS. 

To  listen  and  what  in  me  lies  to  do ; 
For  surely  mine  were  but  a  heart  of  stone 
Not  to  be  moved  by  such  an  embassy, 
Nor  feel  my  people's  sorrows  as  my  own. 

Priest  — 

0  CEdipus,  our  Father,  and  our  King ! 

Of  what  a  mingled  company  you  see 

This  Supplication  gathered  at  your  door ; 

Even  from  the  child  who  scarce  has  learned  to  creep, 

Down  to  old  age  that  little  further  can, 

"With  all  the  strength  of  life  that  breathes  between. 

You  know  how  all  the  shattered  city  lies 

Reeling  a-wreck,  and  cannot  right  herself 

Under  the  tempest  of  this  pestilence, 

That  nips  the  fruitful  growth  within  the  bud, 

Strangles  the  struggling  blossom  in  the  womb, 

With  sudden  death  infects  the  living  man. 

Until  the  realm  of  Cadmus  wastes,  and  Thebes 

With  her  depopulation  Hades  feeds. 

Therefore,  myself  and  this  mute  company 

In  supplication  at  your  altar  sit, 

Looking  to  you  for  succor ;  looking  not 

As  to  a  God,  but  to  the  Man  of  men. 

Most  like  the  God  in  man's  extremity  : 

Who,  coming  here  a  stranger  to  the  land. 

Didst  overcome  the  Witch  who  with  her  song 

Seduced,  and  slew  the  wisest  and  the  best ; 

For  which  all  but  divine  deliverance  Thebes 

Called  the  strange  man  who  saved  her  to  the  throne 

Left  void  by  her  hereditary  king. 

And  now  the  kingdom  looks  to  you  once  more  — 

To  you,  the  Master  of  the  master  mind. 

To  save  her  in  a  worse  extremity : 

When  men,  not  one  by  one,  but  troop  by  troop, 

Fall  by  a  plague  more  deadly  than  the  Sphinx, 

Till  Thebes  herself  is  left  to  foreign  arms 

Assailable  —  for  what  are  wall  and  tower, 

Divinely  built  and  founded  as  they  be. 

Without  the  rampart  of  the  man  within  ?  — 

And  let  not  what  of  Cadmus  yet  survives 

From  this  time  forth  regard  you  as  the  man 

Who  saved  them  once,  by  worse  to  perish  now. 

CEdipus  — 

Alas,  my  children !  telling  me  of  that 

My  people  groans  with,  knov.ang  not  yourselves 


THE  DOWNFALL  AND   DEATH  OF   KING  CEDIPUS.      G15 

How  more  than  any  man  among  you,  I, 

Who  bear  the  accumulated  woes  of  all ; 

So  that  you  find  me,  coming  when  you  may, 

Restlessly  all  day  pacing  up  and  down, 

Tossing  all  night  upon  a  sleepless  bed, 

Endeavoring  all  that  of  myself  I  can. 

And  all  of  Heaven  implore  —  thus  far  in  vain. 

But  if  your  King  have  seemed  to  pause  awhile, 

'Tis  that  I  wait  the  issue  of  one  hope. 

Which,  if  accomplished,  will  accomplish  all. 

Creon,  my  brother,  and  my  second  self 

Beside  the  throne  I  sit  on,  to  the  shrine 

Of  Delphian  Phoebus,  —  man's  assured  appeal 

In  all  his  exigence,  —  I  have  dispatched : 

And  long  before  you  gathered  at  my  door 

Within  my  soul  was  fretting,  lest  To-day 

That  should  have  lighted  him  from  Delphi  back 

Pass  over  into  night,  and  bring  him  not. 

But  come  he  must,  and  will ;  and  when  he  comes, 

Do  I  not  all,  so  far  as  man  may  do, 

To  follow  where  the  God  shall  point  the  way, 

Denounce  me  traitor  to  the  State  I  saved 

And  to  the  people  who  proclaimed  me  King. 

Chorus  —    Your  words  are  as  a  breath  from  Delphi,  King, 
Prophetic  of  itself ;  for  even  now 
Porerunning  Rumor  buzzes  in  our  ear 
That  he  whose  coming  all  await  is  here. 

(Edipus  —  And  as  before  the  advent  of  a  God, 

The  moving  multitude  divides  —  0  Phoebus ! 
Be  but  the  word  he  carries  back  to  me 
Auspicious  as  well-timed ! 

Chorus  —  And  shall  no  less ; 

For  look !  the  laurel  wreath  about  his  brow 
Can  but  announce  the  herald  of  Success. 

Enter  Creon. 
(Edipus  —  Son  of  Menoeceus !     Brother !    Brother  king !  — 

Oh,  let  impatience  for  the  word  you  bring 

Excuse  brief  welcome  to  the  messenger ! 

Be  but  the  word  as  welcome  !  — 
Creon —  As  it  shall, 

Plave  you  your  ancient  cunning  to  divine 

The  darker  word  in  which  the  God  of  Light 

Enshrineb  }iis  answer. 
CEdipiis  —  Speak !  for  till  I  hear, 

I  know  not  whetber  most  to  hope  or  fear, 


616      THE   DOWNFALL   AND   DEATH   OF  KING  OiDIPUS. 

Creon  — 

Am  I  to  speak  before  the  people  here, 
Or  to  yourself  within  ? 

(Edipus —  Here,  before  all, 

Whose  common  cause  it  is. 

Creon  —  To  all  then  thus  : 

When  Delphi  reached,  and  at  the  sacred  shrine 
Lustration,  sacrifice,  and  offering  made, 
I  put  the  question  I  was  charged  withal, 
The  Prophetess  of  the  three-footed  throne, 
Conceiving  with  the  vapor  of  the  God 
Which  wrapt  her,  rising  from  Earth's  center,  round, 
At  length  convulsed  to  sudden  answer  broke :  — 
"  0  seven-gated  City,  by  the  Lyre 
Compact,  and  peopled  from  a  Dragon  Sire ! 
Thebes  feeds  the  Plague  that  slays  her,  nourishing 
Within  her  walls  the  slayer  of  her  King." 

(Edipus  — 

The  slayer  of  her  King  ?     What  king  ? 

Creon  —  None  else 

I  know  than  Laius,  son  of  Labdacus, 
Who  occupied  the  throne  before  you  came ; 
That  much  of  Oracle,  methinks,  is  plain. 

(Edipus  — 

A  story  rises  on  me  from  the  past. 
Laius,  the  son  of  Labdacus  —  of  whom 
I  know  indeed,  but  him  I  never  saw. 

Creon  — 

No ;  he  was  slain  before  you  set  your  foot 
Over  the  country's  threshold. 

(Edipus —  Slain!     By  whoir  ? 

Creon  — 

That  to  divine  were  to  interpret  all 

That  (Edipus  himself  is  called  to  answer. 

Thus  much  is  all  we  know. 

The  King  was  murdered  by  some  roving  band 

Of  outlaws,  Avho  waylaid  him  on  his  road 

To  that  same  Delphi,  whither  he  had  gone 

On  some  such  sacred  mission  as  myself. 

(Edipus  — 

Yet  of  those  roving  outlaws,  one  at  least 

Yet  breathes  among  us  in  the  heart  of  Thebes. 

Creon  — 

So  saith  the  Oracle. 

(Edipus  -^  la  the  midst  of  all 


THE  DOWNFALL  AND   DEATH  OF  KING  (EDIPUS.     617 

The  citizens  and  subjects  of  the  King 

He  slew ; 
Creon — 

So  saith  the  Oracle. 
(Edipus  —  But  hold ! 

The  stovy  of  this  treason  —  all,  you  say, 

Now  known  of  it,  how  first  made  known  in  Thebes  ? 
Creon  — 

By  the  one  man  of  the  King's  retinue, 

Who  having  'scaped  the  fate  which  took  the  rest, 

As  if  the  assassin's  foot  were  at  his  heels, 

Half  dead  with  fear,  just  reached  the  city  gates 

With  breath  to  tell  the  story. 
(Edipus  —  And  breathes  still 

To  tell  it  once  again  ? 
Creon —  I  know  not  that : 

For  having  told  it,  the  bewildered  man. 

As  fast  as  hither  he  had  fled,  fled  hence. 

Where,  if  the  assassin's  foot  not  on  him  then, 

His  eye,  the  God  declares,  were  on  him  now  — 

So  fled  he  to  his  native  field  again 

Among  his  flocks  and  fellow-husbandmen. 
(Edipus  — 

And  thus  the  single  witness  you  let  slip, 

Whose  eye  might  even  have  singled  out  the  man, 

As  him  the  man's  !     Oh,  had  I  but  been  by, 

I  would  have  driven  interrogation  home, 

Would  the  bewildered  memory  so  have  sifted 

Of  each  minutest  grain  of  circumstance  — 

How  many,  accoutered  how,  what  people  like  — 

Now,  by  the  lapse  of  time  and  memory, 

Beyond  recall  into  oblivion  passed ! 

But  not  to  lose  what  yet  of  hope  there  is  — 

Let  him  be  sent  for,  sought  for,  found,  and  brought. 
Creon  — 

Meanwhile,  default  of  him  for  whom  you  send, 

Or  of  uncertain  memory  when  he  comes. 

Were  it  not  well,  if  still  the  God  withhold 

His  revelation  of  the  word  we  need, 

To  question  it  of  his  Interpreter  ? 
(Edipus  — 

Of  his  Interpreter  ? 
Creon  —  Of  whom  so  well, 

As  of  Tiresias,  the  blind  Seer  of  Thebes, 

Whose  years  the  God  hath  in  his  service  counted 

Beyond  all  reach  of  human  memory  ? 


618     THE  DOWNFALL  AND  DEATH   OF  KING  CEDIPUS. 

(Edipus  — 

So  be  it.     But  I  marvel  yet  why  Tliebes, 
Letting  the  witness  slip,  then  unpursued, 
Or  undetected,  left  the  criminal, 
Whom  the  King's  blood,  by  whomsoever  spilt, 
Cried  out  aloud  to  be  revenged  upon. 
Creon  — 

What  might  be  done  we  did.     But  how  detect 
The  roving  robber,  in  whatever  land. 
Of  friend  or  foe  alike,  outlawed  of  all, 
Wherever  prey  to  pounce  on  on  the  wing. 
Or  housed  in  rock  or  forest,  save  to  him 
Unknown,  or  inaccessible  ?     Besides, 
Thebes  soon  had  other  business  on  her  hand. 
(Edipus  — 

Why,  what  of  business  to  engage  her  more 
Than  to  revenge  the  murder  of  her  King  ? 
Creon  — 

None  other  than  the  riddle-singing  Sphinx 
Who,  till  you  came  to  silence  her,  held  Tliebes 
From  thinking  of  the  dead  to  save  herself. 
(Edijms  — 

And  leaving  this  which  then  you  might  have  guessed, 

To  guess  at  that  which  none  of  you  could  solve. 

You  have  brought  home  a  riddle  on  your  heads 

Inextricable  and  more  fatal  far  ! 

But  I,  who  put  the  riddling  Witch  to  rest, 

This  fatal  riddle  will  unravel  too, 

And  by  swift  execution  following 

The  revelation,  once  more  save  the  realm, 

And  wipe  away  the  impiety  and  shame 

Of  Laius'  yet  unexpiated  death. 

For  were  no  expiation  to  the  God, 

And  to  the  welfare  of  this  people  due, 

Were't  not  a  shame  thus  unrevenged  so  long 

To  leave  the  slaughter  of  so  great  a  King  — 

King  Laius,  the  son  of  Labdacus, 

Who  from  his  father  Polydore  his  blood 

Direct  from  Cadmus  and  Agenor  drew  ? 

Shame  to  myself,  who,  sitting  on  the  throne 

He  sat  on,  wedded  to  the  very  Queen 

Who  should  have  borne  him  children,  as  to  me 

She  bore  them,  had  not  an  assassin's  hand 

Divorced  them  ere  their  wedded  life  bore  fruit ! 

Therefore  to  this  as  'twere  my  father's  cause, 


THE  DOWNFALL  AND  DEATH  OF  KING  CEDIPUS.      619 

As  of  my  people's  —  nay,  why  not  my  own, 

"Who  in  his  death  am  threatened  by  the  hand 

Of  him,  whose  eye  now  follows  me  about  ?  — 

With  the  Gods'  aid  do  I  devote  myself. 

I,  (Edipns,  albeit  no  Theban  born. 

By  Thebes  herself  enthroned  her  sovereign  King, 

Thus  to  the  citizens  of  Thebes  proclaim : 

That  whosoever  of  them  knows  by  whom 

King  Laius,  son  of  Labdacus,  was  slain, 

ForthAvith  let  him  disclose  it  undismayed ; 

Yea,  though  the  criminal  himself  he  were. 

Let  not  the  dread  of  deadly  consequence 

Revolt  him  from  confession  of  crime ; 

For  he  shall  suffer  nothing  worse  than  this,  — 

Instant  departure  from  the  city,  but 

Uninjured,  uninsulted,  unpursued; 

For  though  feloniously  a  King  he  slew, 

Yet  haply  as  a  stranger  unaware 

That  king  was  Laius ;  and  thus  the  crime 

Half  cleared  of  treason,  half  absolved  by  time. 

Nor,  on  the  other  hand,  if  any  knows 

A^nother  guilty,  let  him  not  for  love, 
Or  fear,  or  whatsoever  else  regard. 

Flinch  from  a  revelation  that  shall  win 
More  from  myself  than  aught  he  fears  to  lose  — 
Nay,  as  a  second  savior  of  the  State 
Shall  after  me  be  called  ;  and  who  should  not 
Save  a  whole  people  at  the  cost  of  one  ? 
But  Him  —  that  one  —  who  would  not  at  the  cost 
Of  self-confession  save  himself  and  all  — 
Him  —  were  he  nearest  to  my  heart  and  hearth  — 
Nearest  and  dearest  —  thus  do  I  renounce  : 
That  from  the  very  moment  that  he  stands, 
By  whatsoever,  or  by  whom,  revealed, 
No  man  shall  him  bespeak,  at  home,  abroad, 
Sit  with  at  table,  nor  by  altar  stand. 
But,  as  the  very  Pestilence  he  were 
Incarnate  which  this  people  now  devours. 
Him  slay  at  once,  or  hoot  and  hunt  him  forth 
With  execration  from  the  city  walls. 
But  if,  in  spite  of  promise  or  of  threat, 
"    The  man  who  did,  or  knows  who  did,  this  deed, 
Still  hold  it  in  his  bosom  unrevealed  — 
That  man  —  and  he  is  here  among  us  now  — 
Man's  vengeance  may  escape  when  he  forswe?.r§ 


620      THE   DOWNFALL   AND   DEATH   OF   KING  CEDIPUS. 

Participation  in  the  crime,  but  not 
The  Gods',  himself  involving  in  the  Curse 
Which,  with  myself  and  every  man  in  Thebes, 
He  shall  denounce  upon  the  criminal, 
The  Gods  invoking  to  withhold  from  him 
That  issue  of  the  earth  by  which  he  lives, 
That  issue  of  the  womb  by  which  himself 
Lives  after  him ;  that  in  the  deadly  curse 
By  which  his  fellows  perish  he  and  his 
May  perish,  or,  if  worse  there  be,  by  worse ! 

Chorus  — 

Beside  Apollo's  altar  standing  here, 
That  oath  I  swear,  that  neither  I  myself 
Nor  did  myself,  nor  know  who  did  this  deed ; 
And  in  the  curse  I  join  on  him  who  did, 
Or,  knowing  him  who  did,  will  not  reveal. 

(Edipus  — 

'Tis  well :  and,  all  the  city's  seven  gates  closed, 
Thus  solemnly  shall  every  man  in  Thebes 
Before  the  altars  of  his  country  swear. 

Chorus  — 

Well  have  you  done,  0  Master,  in  so  far 
As  human  hand  and  wit  may  reach ;  and  lo ! 
The  sacred  Seer  of  Thebes,  Tiresias, 
To  whom,  next  to  God  himself,  we  look 
For  Heaven's  assistance,  at  your  summons  comes, 
In  his  prophetic  raiment,  staff  in  hand. 
Approaching,  gravely  guided  as  his  wont. 
But  with  a  step,  methinks,  unwonted  slow. 

Etiter  Tiresias. 

Tiresias,  Minister  and  Seer  of  God, 

Who,  blind  to  all  that  others  see  without, 

See  that  within  to  which  all  else  are  blind ; 

Sequestered  as  you  are  with  Deity, 

You  know,  what  others  only  know  too  well, 

The  mortal  sickness  that  confounds  us  all ; 

But  you  alone  can  tell  the  remedy. 

For  since  the  God  whose  Minister  you  are 

Bids  us,  if  Thebes  would  be  herself  again, 

Kevenge  the  murder  of  King  Laius 

By  retribution  on  the  murderer, 

Who  undetected  walks  among  us  now; 

Unless  by  you,  Tiresias,  to  whose  lips, 

As  Phoebus  his  Interpreter  we  cling, 


THE  DOWNFALL  AND  DEATH  OF  KING  (EDIPUS.      621 

To  catch  the  single  word  that  he  withholds, 

And  without  which  what  he  reveals  is  vain  — 

Therefore  to  you,  Tiresias,  you  alone, 

Do  look  this  people  and  their  Ruler  —  look, 

Imploring  you,  by  that  same  inward  light 

Which  sees,  to  name  the  man  who  lurks  unseen^ 

And  whose  live  presence  is  the  death  of  all. 
Tiresias — 

Alas !  how  worse  than  vain  to  be  well  armed 

When  the  man's  weapon  turns  upon  himself ! 
OEdqJus  — 

I  know  not  upon  whom  that  arrow  lights. 
Tiresias  — 

If  not  on  him  that  summoned,  then  on  him 

Who,  summoned,  came.     There  is  one  remedy ; 

Let  those  who  hither  led  me  lead  me  hence. 
(Edipus  — 

Before  the  single  word  —  which  you  alone 

Can  speak  —  be  spoken  ?     How  is  this,  Tiresias, 

That  to  your  King  on  such  a  summons  come. 

You  come  so  much  distempered  ? 
Tiresias —  For  the  King, 

With  all  his  wisdom,  knows  not  what  he  asks. 
(Edipus  — 

And  therefore  asks  that  he  may  know  from  you, 

Seeing  the  God  hath  folded  up  his  word 

From  human  eyesight. 
Tiresias  —  Why  should  I  reveal 

What  He  I  serve  has  chosen  to  conceal  ? 
(Edipus  — 

Is't  not  your  office  to  interpret  that 

To  man  which  he  for  man  vouchsafes  from  Heaven  ? 
Tiresias  — 

What  Fate  hath  fixed  to  come  to  pass  come  will, 

Whether  revealed  or  not. 
(Edipus —  I  know  it  must; 

But  Fate  may  cancel  Fate,  foretelling  that 

Which,  unpredicted,  else  would  come  to  pass. 
Tiresias  — 

Yet  none  the  less  I  tell  you,  ffidipus. 

That  you,  though  wise,  not  knowing  what  you  ask, 

I,  knowing,  shall  not  answer. 
(Edipus —  You  will  not! 

Inexorable  to  the  people's  cries  — 

Plague-pitiless,  disloyal  to  your  King  — 


622     THE  DOWNFALL  AND  DEATH  OF  KING  (EDIPUS. 

Tiresias — 

Oh !   you  forsooth  were  taunting  me  but  now 
With  uiy  distempered  humor  — 

(Edipus  —  Who  would  not, 

When  but  a  word,  which  you  pretend  to  know, 
Would  save  a  people  ? 

Tiresias  —  One  of  them  at  least 

It  would  not. 

(Edijncs  —  Oh,  scarce  any  man,  methinks, 

But  would  himself,  though  guiltless,  sacrifice, 
If  that  would  ransom  all. 

Tiresias —  Yet  one,  you  see, 

Obdurate  as  myself  — 

(Edipus  — 

You  have  not  heard,  perchance,  Tiresias 
(Unless  from  that  prophetic  voice  within), 
How  through  the  city,  by  my  herald's  voice, 
With  excommunication,  death,  or  banishment, 
I  have  denounced,  not  him  alone  who  did, 
But  him  who,  knowing  who,  will  not  reveal  ? 

Tiresias — 

I  hear  it  now. 

(Edipus —  And  are  inflexible 

To  Fear  as  Pity  ? 

Tiresias  —  It  might  be,  to  Fear 

Inflexible  by  Pity  ;  else,  why  fear 
Invulnerable  as  I  am  in  Truth, 
And  by  the  God  I  serve  inviolate  ? 

(Edipus  — 

Is  not  your  King  a  Minister  of  Zeus, 

As  you  of  Phoebus,  and  the  King  of  Thebes 

Not  more  to  be  insulted  or  defied 

Than  any  Priest  or  Augur  in  his  realm  ? 

Tiresias — 

Implore,  denounce,  and  threaten  as  you  may, 
What  unrevealed  I  would,  I  will  not  say. 

(Edipus  — 

You  will  not !     Mark  then  how,  default  of  your 
Interpretation,  I  interpret  you  : 
Either  not  knowing  what  you  feign  to  know. 
You  lock  your  tongue  in  baffled  ignorance  ; 
Or,  knowing  that  which  you  will  not  reveal, 
I  do  suspect  —  Suspect !  why,  stand  you  not 
Self-accused,  self-convicted,  and  by  me 
Denounced  as  he,  that  knowing  him  who  did, 


THE  DOWNFALL   AND  DEATH  OF  KING  CEDIPUS.     623 

Will  uot  reveal  —  nay,  might  yourself  have  done 

The  deed  that  you  with  some  accomplice  planned, 

Could  those  blind  eyes  have  aimed  the  murderous  hand  ? 
Tiresias  — 

You  say  so !     Now  then,  listen  in  your  turn 

To  that  one  word  which,  as  it  leaves  my  lips, 

By  your  own  Curse  upon  the  Criminal 

Denounced,  should  be  your  last  in  Thebes  to  hear. 

For  by  the  unerring  insight  of  the  God 

You  question,  Zeus  his  delegate  though  you  be 

Who  lay  this  Theban  people  under  curse 

Of  revelation  of  the  murderer 

Whose  undiscovered  presence  eats  away 

The  people's  life  —  I  tell  you  —  You  are  he"! 
Chorus  — 

Forbear,  old  man,  forbear  !     And  you,  my  King, 

Heed  not  the  passion  of  provoked  old  age. 
(Edipus  — 

And  thus,  in  your  blind  passion  of  revenge, 

You  think  to  'scape  contempt  or  punishment 

By  tossing  accusation  back  on  me 

Under  Apollo's  mantle. 
Tiresias —  Ay,  and  more, 

Dared  you  but  listen. 
Chorus  —  Peace,  0  peace,  old  man ! 

(Edipus  — 

Nay,  let  him  shoot  his  poisoned  arrows  out ; 

They  fall  far  short  of  me. 
Tiresias  —  Not  mine,  but  those 

Which  Fate  had  filled  my  Master's  quiver  with, 

And  you  have  drawn  u]3on  yourself. 
(Edipus  —  Your  Master's  ? 

Your  Master's ;  but  assuredly  not  His 

To  whom  you  point,  albeit  you  see  him  not. 

In  his  meridian  dazzling  overhead, 

Who  is  the  God  of  Truth  as  well  as  Light, 

And  knows  as  I  within  myself  must  know 

If  Memory  be  not  false  as  Augury, 

The  words  you  put  into  his  lips  a  Lie ! 

Not  He,  but  Self —  Self  only  —  in  revenge 

Of  self-convicted  ignorance  —  Self  alone. 

Or  with  some  self  whom  Self  would  profit  by  — 

As  were  it  —  Creon,  say  —  smooth,  subtle  Creon, 

Moving  by  rule  and  weighing  every  word 

As  in  the  scales  of  Justice  —  but  of  whom 


624     THE  DOWNFALL  AND  DEATH  OF  KING  (EDIPUS. 

Whispers  of  late  have  reached  me  —  Creon,  hat 
Methinks  I  scent  another  Master  here ! 
Who,  wearied  of  but  secondary  power 
Under  an  alien  King,  and  would  belike 
Exalt  his  Prophet  for  good  service  done 
Higher  than  ever  by  my  throne  he  stood  — 
And,  now  I  think  on't,  bade  me  send  for  you 
Under  the  mask  of  Phoebus  — 

Chorus —  Oh,  forbear  — 

Forbear,  in  turn,  my  lord  and  master ! 

Tiresias —  Nay, 

Let  him,  in  turn,  his  poisoned  arrows,  not 
Prom  Phoebus'  quivei-,  shoot,  but  to  recoil 
When,  his  mad  Passion  having  passed  — 

(Edipus — •  0  vain 

Prerogative  of  human  majesty. 
That  one  poor  mortal  from  his  fellows  takes. 
And,  with  false  pomp  and  honor  dressing  up, 
Lifts  idol-like  to  what  men  call  a  Throne, 
For  all  below  to  worship  and  assail ! 
That  even  the  power  which  unsolicited 
By  aught  but  salutary  service  done 
The  men  of  Thebes  committed  to  my  hands, 
Some,  restless  under  just  authority, 
Or  jealous  of  not  wielding  it  themselves. 
Even  with  the  altar  and  the  priest  collude. 
And  tamper  with,  to  ruin  or  to  seize  ! 
Prophet  and  Seer  forsooth,  and  Soothsayer ! 
Why,  when  the  singing  Witch  contrived  the  noose 
Which  strangled  all  who  tried  and  none  could  loosej, 
Where  was  the  Prophet  of  Apollo  then  ? 
'Twas  not  for  cne  who  poring  purblind  down 
Over  the  reeking  entrail  of  the  beast, 
Nor  gaping  to  the  wandering  bird  in  air, 
Nor  in  the  empty  silence  of  his  soul 
Feigning  a  voice  of  God  inaudible, 
Not  he,  nor  any  of  his  tribe  —  but  I  — 
I,  (Edipus,  a  stranger  in  the  land, 
And  uninspired  by  all  but  mother  wit. 
Silenced  and  slew  the  monster  against  whom 
Divine  and  human  cunning  strove  in  vain. 
And  now  again  when  tried,  and  foiled  again, 
This  Prophet  —  whether  to  revenge  the  past, 
And  to  prevent  discomfiture  to  come, 
Or  by  some  traitor  aiming  at  my  throne 


KING   CEDIPUS 

From  a  painting  by  E.   Tescshendorff 


THE  DOWNFALL  AND  DEATH  OF  KING  CEDH^US.     025 

Suborned  to  stand  a  greater  at  his  side 

Than  peradventure  e'er  he  stood  at  mine, 

Would  drag  me  to  destruction !     But  beware ! 

Beware  lest,  blind  and  aged  as  you  are. 

Wrapt  in  supposititious  sanctity, 

You,  and  whoever  he  that  leagues  with  you. 

Meet  a  worse  doom  than  you  for  me  prepare. 
Tiresias — 

Quick  to  your  vengeance,  then ;  for  this  same  day 

That  under  Phoebus'  fiery  rein  flies  fast 

Over  the  field  of  heaven,  shall  be  the  last 

That  you  shall  play  the  tyrant  in. 
(Edipus  —  0  Thebes, 

You  never  called  me  Tyrant,  from  the  day 

Since  first  I  saved  you ! 
Tiresias  —  And  shall  save  again ; 

As  then  by  coming,  by  departing  now. 

Enough :  before  the  day  that  judges  both 

Decide  between  us,  let  them  lead  me  home, 
(Edipus  — 

Ay,  lead  him  hence  —  home  —  Hades  —  anywhere  i 

Blind  in  his  inward  as  his  outward  eye. 
Tiresias — 

Poor  man  !  that  in  your  inward  vision  blind, 

Know  not,  as  I,  that  ere  this  day  go  down, 

By  your  own  hand  yourself  shall  be  consigned 

To  deeper  night  than  now  you  taunt  me  with ; 

When,  not  the  King  and  Prophet  that  you  were. 

But  a  detested  outcast  of  the  land, 

With  other  eyes  and  hands  you  feel  your  way 

To  wander  through  the  world,  begging  the  bread 

Of  execration  from  the  stranger's  hand 

Denied  you  here,  and  thrust  from  door  to  door, 

As  though  yourself  the  Plague  you  brought  from  Thebes  j 

A  wretch,  self-branded  with  the  double  curse 

Of  such  unheard,  unnatural  infamy. 

As  shall  confound  a  son  in  the  embrace 

Of  her  who  bore  him  to  the  sire  he  slew ! 


10 


G26  MEDEA. 


FROM   EURIPIDES'   "MEDEA."^ 

Translation  of  E.  P.  COLERmGE. 

[Euripides  :  The  last  of  the  three  Greek  tragic  poets ;  bom  on  the  island 
of  Salamis  in  b.c.  480,  according  to  popular  tradition,  on  the  day  of  the  famous 
naval  battle.  He  received  instruction  in  physics  from  Anaxagoras,  in  rhetoric 
from  Prodicus,  and  was  on  terms  of  intimate  friendship  with  Socrates.  He  early 
devoted  his  attention  to  dramatic  composition,  and  at  the  age  of  twenty-five 
obtained  a  prize  for  his  first  tragedy.  After  a  successful  career  at  Athens,  he 
retired  for  unknown  reasons  to  Magnesia  in  Thessaly,  and  thence  proceeded  to 
the  court  of  Archelaus,  king  of  Macedonia,  where  he  died  in  b.c.  405.  Of  over 
seventy-five  tragedies  there  have  come  down  to  us  only  eighteen,  the  best  known 
being:  "Alcestis,"  "Medea,"  " Hippolytus,"  "Hecuba,"  "Andromache," 
"Iphigenia  at  Aulis,"  "Iphigenia  among  the  Tauri,"  "Electra,"  "Orestes," 
"Bacchse."] 

Ja8on  —  I  am  come  at  thy  bidding,  for  e'en  though  thy  hate 
for  me  is  bitter  thou  shalt  not  fail  in  this  small  boon,  but  I  will 
hear  what  new  request  thou  hast  to  make  of  me,  lady. 

Medea  —  Jason,  I  crave  thy  pardon  for  the  words  I  spoke, 
and  well  thou  mayest  brook  my  burst  of  passion,  for  ere  now 
we  twain  nave  shared  much  love.  For  I  have  reasoned  with 
my  soul  and  railed  upon  me  thus:  "Ah!  poor  heart  1  why  am  1 
thus  distraught,  why  so  angered  'gainst  all  good  advice,  why 
have  I  come  to  hate  the  rulers  of  the  land,  my  husband  too, 
who  does  the  best  for  me  he  can,  in  wedding  with  a  princess 
and  rearing  for  my  children  noble  brothers?  Shall  I  not  cease 
to  fret?  What  possesses  me,  when  heaven  its  best  doth  offer? 
Have  I  not  my  children  to  consider?  do  I  forget  that  we  are 
fugitives,  in  need  of  friends  ?  "  When  I  had  thought  all  this, 
I  saw  how  foolish  I  had  been,  how  senselessly  enraged.  So 
now  I  do  commend  thee  and  think  thee  most  wise  in  forming 
this  connection  for  us;  but  I  was  mad,  I  who  should  have 
shared  in  these  designs,  helped  on  thy  plans,  and  lent  my  aid 
to  bring  about  the  match,  only  too  pleased  to  wait  upon  thy 
bride.  But  what  we  are,  we  are,  we  women,  evil  I  will  not 
say ;  wherefore  thou  shouldst  not  sink  to  our  sorry  level  nor 
with  our  weapons  meet  our  childishness. 

I  yield  and  do  confess  that  I  was  wrong  then,  but  now  have 
I  come  to  a  better  mind.  Come  hither,  my  children,  come, 
leave  the  house,  step  forth,  and  with  me  greet  and  bid  farewell 
to  your  father,  be  reconciled  from  all  past  bitterness  unto  your 
friends,  as  now  your  mother  is ;  for  we  have  made  a  truce  and 
anger  is  no  more. 

>  By  permission  of  Geo.  Bell  &  Sons     (2  vols.,  price  58.  e^ch.) 


GEEEK   ACTORS 
From  a  painting  by  J.  L.  G^ronie 


MEDEA.  627 

Enter  the  Children. 

Take  his  right  hand ;  ah  me !  my  sad  fate !  when  I  reflect,  as 
now,  upon  the  hidden  future.  O  my  children,  since  there 
awaits  you  even  thus  a  long,  long  life,  stretch  forth  the  hand 
to  take  a  fond  farewell.  Ah  me !  how  new  to  tears  am  I,  how 
full  of  fear!  For  now  that  I  have  at  last  released  me  from  my 
quarrel  with  your  father,  I  let  the  tear-drops  stream  adown  my 
tender  cheek. 

Chorus  —  From  my  eyes  too  bursts  forth  the  copious  tear; 
O,  may  no  greater  ill  than  the  present  e'er  befall! 

Jason  —  Lady,  I  praise  this  conduct,  not  that  I  blame  what 
is  past;  for  it  is  but  natural  to  the  female  sex  to  vent  their 
spleen  against  a  husband  when  he  traffics  in  other  marriages 
besides  his  own.  But  thy  heart  is  changed  to  wiser  schemes, 
and  thou  art  determined  on  the  better  course,  late  though  it 
be ;  this  is  acting  like  a  woman  of  sober  sense.  And  for  you, 
my  sons,  hath  your  father  provided  with  all  good  heed  a  sure 
refuge,  by  God's  grace ;  for  ye,  I  trow,  shall  with  your  brothers 
share  hereafter  the  foremost  rank  in  this  Corinthian  realm. 
Only  grow  up,  for  all  the  rest  your  sire  and  whoso  of  the  gods 
is  kind  to  us  is  bringing  to  pass.  May  I  see  you  reach  man's 
full  estate,  high  o'er  the  heads  of  those  I  hate!  But  thou, 
lady,  why  with  fresh  tears  dost  thou  thine  eyelids  wet,  turning 
away  thy  wan  cheek,  with  no  welcome  for  these  my  happy 
tidings  ? 

Medea  —  'Tis  naught;  upon  these  children  my  thoughts 
were  turned. 

Jason  —  Then  take  heart;  for  I  will  see  that  it  is  well  with 
them. 

Medea  —  I  will  do  so;  nor  will  I  doubt  thy  word;  woman 
is  a  weak  creature,  ever  given  to  tears. 

Jason  —  Why,  prithee,  unhappy  one,  dost  moan  o'er  these 
children  ? 

Medea  —  I  gave  them  birth;  and  when  thou  didst  prav 
long  life  for  them,  pity  entered  into  my  soul  to  think  that 
these  things  must  be.  But  the  reason  of  thy  coming  hither  to 
speak  with  me  is  partly  told,  the  rest  will  I  now  mention. 
Since  it  is  the  pleasure  of  the  rulers  of  the  land  to  banish  me, 
and  well  I  know  'twere  best  for  me  to  stand  not  in  the  way  of 
thee  or  of  the  rulers  by  dwelling  here,  enemy  as  I  am  thought 
unto  their  house,  forth  from  this  land  in  exile  am  I  going;  but 


628  MEDEA. 

these  children,— that  they  may  know  thy  fostering  hand,  beg 
Creon  to  remit  their  banishment. 

Jason  —  I  doubt  whether  I  can  persuade  him,  yet  must  I 
attempt  it. 

Medea  — At  least  do  thou  bid  thy  wife  ask  her  sire  this 
boon,  to  remit  the  exile  of  the  children  from  this  land. 

Jason  —  Yea,  that  will  I;  and  her  methinks  I  shall  per- 
suade, since  she  is  a  woman  like  the  rest. 

Medea  —  I  too  will  aid  thee  in  this  task,  for  by  the  chil- 
dren's hand  I  will  send  to  her  gifts  that  far  surpass  in  beauty, 
I  well  know,  aught  that  now  is  seen  'mongst  men,  a  robe  of 
finest  tissue  and  a  chaplet  of  chased  gold.  But  one  of  my 
attendants  must  haste  and  bring  the  ornaments  hither.  Happy 
shall  she  be  not  once  alone  but  ten  thousandfold,  for  in  thee 
she  wins  the  noblest  soul  to  share  her  love,  and  gets  these  gifts 
as  well  which  on  a  day  my  father's  sire,  the  Sun  God,  bestowed 
on  his  descendants.  My  children,  take  in  your  hands  these 
wedding  gifts,  and  bear  them  as  an  offering  to  the  royal  maid, 
the  happy  bride ;  for  verily  the  gifts  she  shall  receive  are  not 
to  be  scorned. 

Jason  —  But  why  so  rashly  rob  thyself  of  these  gifts  ?  Dost 
think  a  royal  palace  wants  for  robes  or  gold  ?  Keep  them,  nor 
give  them  to  another.  For  well  I  know  that  if  my  lady  hold 
me  in  esteem,  she  will  set  my  price  above  all  wealth. 

Medea  —  Say  not  so;  'tis  said  that  gifts  tempt  even  gods; 
and  o'er  men's  minds  gold  holds  more  potent  sway  than  count- 
less words.  Fortune  smiles  upon  thy  bride,  and  heaven  now 
doth  swell  her  triumph;  youth  is  hers  and  princely  power;  yet 
to  save  my  children  from  exile  I  would  barter  life,  not  dross 
alone.  Children,  when  ye  are  come  to  the  rich  palace,  pray 
your  father's  new  bride,  my  mistress,  with  sui)pliant  voice  to 
save  you  from  exile,  offering  her  these  ornaments  the  while ; 
for  it  is  most  needful  that  she  receive  the  gifts  in  her  own 
hand.  Now  go  and  linger  not;  may  ye  succeed  and  to  your 
mother  bring  back  the  glad  tidings  she  fain  would  hear! 

Chorus  —  Gone,  gone  is  every  hope  I  had  that  the  children 
yet  might  live;  forth  to  their  doom  they  now  proceed.  The 
hapless  bride  will  take,  ay,  take  the  golden  crown  that  is  to  be 
her  ruin ;  with  her  own  hand  will  she  lift  and  place  upon  her 
golden  locks  the  garniture  of  death.  Its  grace  and  sheen 
divine  will  tempt  her  to  put  on  the  robe  and  crown  of  gold, 
and  in  that  act  will  she  deck  herself  to  be  a  bride  amid  tho 


MEDEA.  629 

dead.  Such  is  the  snare  whereiiito  she  will  fall,  such  is  the 
deadly  doom  that  waits  the  hapless  maid,  nor  shall  she  from 
the  curse  escape.  And  thou,  poor  wretch,  who  to  thy  sorrow 
art  wedding  a  king's  daughter,  little  thinkest  of  the  doom  thou 
art  bringing  on  thy  children's  life,  or  of  the  cruel  death  that 
waits  thy  bride. 

Woe  is  thee !  how  art  thou  fallen  from  thy  high  estate ! 

Next  do  I  bewail  thy  sorrows,  O  mother  hapless  in  thy 
children,  thou  who  wilt  slay  thy  babes  because  thou  hast  a 
rival,  the  babes  thy  husband  hath  deserted  impiously  to  join 
him  to  another  bride. 

Attendant  —  Thy  children,  lady,  are  from  exile  freed,  and 
gladly  did  the  royal  bride  accept  thy  gifts  in  her  own  hands, 
and  so  thy  children  made  their  peace  with  her. 

Medea  —  Ah ! 

Attendant  —  Why  art  so  disquieted  in  thy  prosperous  hour? 
Why  turnest  thou  thy  cheek  away,  and  hast  no  welcome  for  my 
glad  news  ? 

Medea  —  Ah  me ! 

Attendant  —  These  groans  but  ill  accord  with  the  news  I 
bring. 

Medea  —  Ah  me !  once  more  I  say. 

Attendant  —  Have  I  unwittingly  announced  some  evil  tid- 
ings?    Have  I  erred  in  thinking  my  news  was  good? 

Medea  —  Thy  news  is  as  it  is ;  I  blame  thee  not. 

Attendant  —  Then  why  this  downcast  eye,  these  floods  of 

tears  ? 

Medea  —  Old  friend,  needs  must  I  weep ;  for  the  gods  and 
I  with  fell  intent  devised  these  schemes. 

Attendant  —  Be  of  good  cheer;  thou  too  of  a  surety  shalt 
by  thy  sons  yet  be  brought  home  again. 

Medea  —  Ere  that  shall  I  bring  others  to  their  home,  ah ! 
woe  is  me! 

Attendant  —  Thou  art  not  the  only  mother  from  thy  chil- 
dren reft.     Bear  patiently  thy  troubles  as  a  mortal  must. 

Medea  —  I  will  obey;  go  thou  within  the  house  and  make 
the  day's  provision  for  the  children.  O  my  babes,  my  babes, 
ye  have  still  a  city  and  a  home,  where  far  from  me  and  my  sad 
lot  you  will  live  your  lives,  reft  of  your  mother  forever;  while 
I  must  to  another  laud  in  banishment,  or  ever  I  have  had  my 
joy  of  you,  or  lived  to  see  you  happy,  or  ever  I  have  graced 
your  marriage  couch,  your  bride,  your  bridal  bower,  or  lifted 


6S0  MEDEA. 

high  the  wedding  torch.  Ah  me!  a  victim  of  my  own  self- 
will.  So  it  was  all  in  vain  I  reared  you,  O  my  sons ;  in  vain 
did  suffer,  racked  with  anguish,  enduring  the  cruel  pangs  of 
childbirth.  'Fore  Heaven  I  once  had  hope,  poor  me!  high 
hope  of  ye  that  you  would  nurse  me  in  my  age  and  deck  my 
corpse  with  loving  hands,  a  boon  we  mortals  covet;  but  now  is 
my  sweet  fancy  dead  and  gone ;  for  I  must  lose  you  both  and 
in  bitterness  and  sorrow  drag  through  life.  And  ye  shall  never 
with  fond  eyes  see  your  mother  more,  for  o'er  your  life  there 
comes  a  change.  Ah  me!  ah  me!  why  do  ye  look  at  me  so, 
my  children  ?  why  smile  that  last  sweet  smile  ?  Ah  me !  what 
am  I  to  do?  My  heart  gives  way  when  I  behold  my  children's 
laughing  eyes.  O,  I  cannot;  farewell  to  all  my  former 
schemes;  I  will  take  the  children  from  the  land,  the  babes  I 
bore.  Why  should  I  wound  their  sire  by  wounding  them,  and 
get  me  a  twofold  measure  of  sorrow?  No,  no,  I  will  not  do  it. 
Farewell  my  scheming!  And  yet  what  am  I  coming  to?  Can 
I  consent  to  let  those  foes  of  mine  escape  from  punishment,  and 
incur  their  mockery?  I  must  face  this  deed.  Out  upon  my 
craven  heart !  to  think  that  I  should  even  have  let  the  soft  words 
escape  my  soul.  Into  the  house,  children !  and  whoso  feels  he 
must  not  be  present  at  my  sacrifice,  must  see  to  it  himself;  I 
will  not  spoil  my  handiwork.  Ah!  ah!  do  not,  my  heart,  O 
do  not  do  this  deed !  Let  the  children  go,  unhappy  lady,  spare 
thy  babes !  For  if  they  live,  they  will  cheer  thee  in  thy  exile 
there.  Nay,  by  the  fiends  of  hell's  abyss,  never,  never  will  I 
hand  my  children  over  to  their  foes  to  mock  and  flout.  Die 
they  must  in  any  case,  and  since  'tis  so,  why  I,  the  mother  who 
bore  them,  will  give  the  fatal  blow.  In  any  case  their  doom  is 
fixed  and  there  is  no  escape.  Already  the  crown  is  on  her  head, 
the  robe  is  round  her,  and  she  is  dying,  the  royal  bride ;  that 
do  I  know  full  well.  But  now  since  I  have  a  piteous  path  to 
tread,  and  yet  more  piteous  still  the  path  I  send  my  children 
on,  fain  would  I  say  farewell  to  them.  O  my  babes,  my  babes, 
let  your  mother  kiss  your  hands.  Ah!  hands  I  love  so  well,  O 
lips  most  dear  to  me !  O  noble  form  and  features  of  my  children, 
I  wish  ye  joy,  but  in  that  other  land,  for  here  your  father  robs 
you  of  your  home.  O  the  sweet  embrace,  the  soft  young  cheek, 
the  fragrant  breath !  my  children !  Go,  leave  me ;  I  cannot  bear 
to  longer  look  upon  ye ;  my  sorrow  wins  the  day.  At  last  I  under- 
stand the  awful  deed  I  am  to  do ;  but  passion,  that  cause  of  direst 
woes  to  mortal  man,  hath  triumphed  o'er  my  sober  thoughts. 


MEDEA.  631 

Chorus  —  Oft  ere  now  have  I  pursued  subtler  themes  and 
have  faced  graver  issues  than  woman's  sex  should  seek  to 
probe;  but  then  e'en  we  aspire  to  culture,  which  dwells  with 
us  to  teach  us  wisdom;  I  say  not  all;  for  small  is  the  class 
amongst  women  —  (one  maybe  shalt  thou  find  'mid  many)  — 
that  is  not  incapable  of  culture.  And  amongst  mortals  I  do 
assert  that  they  who  are  wholly  without  experience  and  have 
never  had  children  far  surpass  in  happiness  those  who  are 
parents.  The  childless,  because  they  have  never  proved 
whether  children  grow  up  to  be  a  blessing  or  curse  to  men,  are 
removed  from  all  share  in  many  troubles;  whilst  those  who 
have  a  sweet  race  of  children  growing  up  in  their  houses  do 
wear  away,  as  I  perceive,  their  whole  life  through;  first  with 
the  thought  how  they  may  train  them  up  in  virtue,  next  how 
they  shall  leave  their  sons  the  means  to  live ;  and  after  all  this 
'tis  far  from  clear  whether  on  good  or  bad  children  they  bestow 
their  toil.  But  one  last  crowning  woe  for  every  mortal  man  I 
now  will  name ;  suppose  that  they  have  found  sufficient  means 
to  live,  and  seen  their  children  grow  to  man's  estate  and  walk 
in  virtue's  path,  still  if  fortune  so  befall,  comes  Death  and 
bears  the  children's  bodies  off  to  Hades.  Can  it  be  any 
profit  to  the  gods  to  heap  upon  us  mortal  men  besides  our 
other  woes  this  further  grief  for  children  lost,  a  grief  surpass- 
ing all  ? 

Medea  —  Kind  friends,  long  have  I  waited  expectantly  to 
know  how  things  would  at  the  palace  chance.  And  lo !  I  see 
one  of  Jason's  servants  coming  hither,  whose  hurried  gasps  for 
breath  proclaim  him  the  bearer  of  some  fresh  tidings. 

Messenger  —  Fly,  fly,  Medea!  who  hast  wrought  an  awful 
deed,  transgressing  every  law;  nor  leave  behind  or  sea-borne 
bark  or  car  that  scours  the  plain. 

Medea  —  Why,  what  hath  chanced  that  calls  for  such  a 
flight  of  mine  ? 

Messenger  —  The  princess  is  dead,  a  moment  gone,  and 
Creon  too,  her  sire,  slain  by  those  drugs  of  thine. 

Medea  —  Tidings  most  fair  are  thine!  Henceforth  shalt 
thou  be  ranked  amongst  my  friends  and  benefactors. 

Messenger  —  Ha !  What  ?  Art  sane  ?  Art  not  distraught, 
lady,  who  hearest  with  joy  the  outrage  to  our  royal  house  done, 
and  art  not  at  the  horrid  tale  afraid  ? 

Medea  —  Somewhat  have  I,  too,  to  say  in  answer  to  thy 
words.     Be  not  so  hasty,  friend,  but  tell  the  manner  of  their 


632  MEDEA. 

death,  for  thou  wouldst  give  me  double  joy,  if  so  they  perished 
miserably. 

Messenger  —  When  the   children  twain  whom  thou   didst 
bear  came  with  their  father  and  entered  the  palace  of  the  bride, 
right  glad  were  we  thralls  who  had  shared  thy  griefs,   for 
instantly  from  ear  to  ear  a  rumor  spread  that  thou  and  thy  lord 
had  made  up  your  former  quarrel.     One  kissed  thy  children's 
hands,  another  their  golden  hair,  while  I  for  very  joy  went 
wdth  them  in  person  to  the  women's  chambers.     Our  mistress, 
whom  now  we  do  revere  in  thy  room,  cast  a  longing  glance  at 
Jason,  ere  she  saw  thy  children  twain ;  but  then  she  veiled  her 
eyes  and  turned  her  blanching  cheek  away,  disgusted  at  their 
coming;  but  thy  husband  tried  to  check  his  young  bride's  angry 
humor  with  these  words:    "O,   be   not  angered   'gainst  thy 
friends;  cease  from  wrath  and  turn  once  more  thy  face  this 
way,  counting  as  friends  whomso  thy  husband  counts,   and 
accept  these  gifts,  and  for  my  sake  crave  thy  sire  to  remit  these 
children's  exile."     Soon  as  she  saw  the  ornaments,  no  longer 
she  held  out,  but  yielded  to  her  lord  in  all ;  and  ere  the  father 
and  his  sons  were  far  from   the   palace   gone,   she  took  the 
broidered  robe  and  put  it  on,  and  set  the  golden  crown  about 
her  tresses,  arranging  her  hair  at  her  bright  mirror,  with  many 
a  happy  smile  at  her  breathless  counterfeit.     Then  rising  from 
her  seat  she  passed  across  the  chamber,  tripping  lightly  on  her 
fair  white  foot,  exulting  in  the  gift,  with  many  a  glance  at  her 
uplifted  ankle.     When  lo!  a  scene  of  awful  horror  did  ensue. 
In  a  moment  she  turned  pale,  reeled  backwards,  trembling  in 
every  limb,  and  sank  upon  a  seat  scarce  soon  enough  to  save 
herself  from  falling  to  the  ground.     An  aged  dame,  one  of  her 
company,  thinking  belike  it  was  a  fit  from  Pan  or  some  god 
sent,  raised  a  cry  of  prayer,  till  from  her  mouth  she  saw  the 
foam  flakes  issue,  her  eyeballs  rolling  in  their  sockets,  and  all 
the  blood  her  face  desert;  then  did  she  raise  a  loud  scream  far 
different  from  her  former  cry.     Forthwith  one  handmaid  rushed 
to  her  father's  house,  another  to  her  new  bridegroom  to  tell  his 
bride's  sad  fate,  and  the  whole  house  echoed  with  their  running 
to  and  fro.     By  this  time  would  a  quick  walker  have  made  the 
turn  in  a  course  of  six  plethra  and  reached  the  goal,  when  she 
with  one  awful  shriek  awoke,  poor  sufferer,  from  her  speechless 
trance  and  oped  her  closed  eyes,  for  against  her  a  twofold 
anguish  was  warring.     The  chaplet  of  gold  about  her  head  was 
sending  forth  a  wondrous  stream  of  ravening  flame,  while  the 


MEDEA.  633 

fine  raiment,  thy  children's  gift,  was  pre3'ing  on  the  hapless 
maiden's  fair  white  flesh;  and  she  starts  from  her  seat  in  a 
blaze  and  seeks  to  fly,  shaking  her  hair  and  head  this  way  and 
that,  to  cast  the  crown  therefrom ;  but  the  gold  held  firm  to  its 
fastenings,  and  the  flame,  as  she  shook  her  locks,  blazed  forth 
the  more  with  double  fury.     Then  to  the  earth  she  sinks,  by 
the  cruel  blow  o'ercome,  past  all  recognition  now  save  to  a 
father's  eye;  for  her  eyes  had  lost  their  tranquil  gaze,  her  face 
no  more  its  natural  look  preserved,  and  from  the  crown  of  her 
head  blood  and  fire  in  mingled  stream  ran  down ;  and  from  her 
bones  the  flesh  kept  peeling  off  beneath  the  gnawing  of  those 
secret  drugs,  e'en  as  when  the  pine  tree  weeps  its  tears  of  pitch, 
a  fearsome  sight  to  see.     And  all  were  afraid  to  touch  the 
corpse,  for  we  were  Avarned  by  what  had  chanced.     Anon  came 
her  hapless  father  unto  the  house,  all  unwitting  of  her  doom, 
and  stumbles  o'er  the  dead,  and  loud  he  cried,  and  folding  his 
arms  about  her  kissed  her,  with  words  like  these  the  while :  "  O 
my  poor,  poor  child,  which  of  the  gods  hath  destroyed  thee  thus 
foully?    Who  is  robbing  me  of  thee,  old  as  I  am  and  ripe  for 
death?     O  my  child,  alas!  would  I  could  die  with  thee!  "     He 
ceased  his  sad  lament,  and  would  have  raised  his  aged  frame, 
but  found  himself  held  fast  by  the  fine-spun  robe  as  ivy  that 
clings  to  the  branches  of  the  bay,  and  then  ensued  a  fearful 
struggle.     He  strove  to  rise,  but  she  still  held  him  back;  and 
if  ever  he  pulled  with  all  his  might,  from  off  his  bones  his 
aged  flesh  he  tore.     At  last  he  gave  it  up,  and  breathed  forth 
his  soul  in  awful  suffering;  for  he  could  no  longer  master  the 
pain.     So  there  they  lie,  daughter  and  aged  sire,  dead  side  by 
side,  a  grievous  sight  that  calls  for  tears.     And  as  for  thee,  I 
leave  thee  out  of  my  consideration,  for  thyself  must  discover 
a  means  to  escape  punishment.     Not  now  for  the  first  time  I 
think  this  human  life  a  shadow ;  yea,  and  without  shrinking 
I  will  say  that  they  amongst  men  who  pretend  to  wisdom  and 
expend  deep  thought  on  words  do  incur  a  serious  charge  of 
folly;    for  amongst  mortals  no   man   is   happy;    wealth   may 
pour  in  and  make  one  luckier  than  another,   but   none   can 
happy  be. 

Chorus  —  This  day  the  deity,  it  seems,  will  mass  on  Jason, 
as  he  well  deserves,  a  heavy  load  of  evils.  Woe  is  thee, 
daughter  of  Creon!  I  pity  thy  sad  fate,  gone  as  thou  art  to 
Hades'  halls  as  the  price  of  thy  marriage  with  Jason. 

3Iedea — My  friends,  I  am  resolved  upon  the  deed;  at  once 


634  MEDEA. 

will  I  slay  my  children  and  then  leave  this  land,  without 
delaying  long  enough  to  hand  them  over  to  some  more  savage 
hand  to  butcher.  Needs  must  they  die  in  any  case ;  and  since 
they  must,  I  will  slay  them  —  I,  the  mother  that  bare  them. 
O  heart  of  mine,  steel  thyself!  Why  do  I  hesitate  to  do  the 
awful  deed  that  must  be  done?  Come,  take  the  sword,  thou 
wretched  hand  of  mine!  Take  it,  and  advance  to  the  post 
whence  starts  thy  life  of  sorrow!  Away  with  cowardice! 
Give  not  one  thought  to  thy  babes,  how  dear  they  are  or  how 
thou  art  their  mother.  This  one  brief  day  forget  thy  children 
dear,  and  after  that  lament;  for  though  thou  wilt  slay  them, 
yet  they  were  thy  darlings  still,  and  I  am  a  lady  of  sorrows. 

Chorus  —  O  earth,  O  sun  whose  beam  illumines  all,  look, 
look  upon  this  lost  woman,  ere  she  stretch  forth  her  murderous 
hand  upon  her  sons  for  blood ;  for  lo !  these  are  scions  of  thy 
own  golden  seed,  and  the  blood  of  gods  is  in  danger  of  being 
shed  by  man.  O  light,  from  Zeus  proceeding,  stay  her,  hold 
her  hand,  forth  from  the  house  chase  this  fell  bloody  fiend  by 
demons  led.  Vainly  wasted  were  the  throes  thy  children  cost 
thee ;  vainly  hast  thou  borne,  it  seems,  sweet  babes,  O  thou  who 
hast  left  behind  thee  that  passage  through  the  blue  Sympleg- 
ades,  that  strangers  justly  hate.  Ah!  hapless  one,  why  doth 
fierce  anger  thy  soul  assail?  Why  in  its  place  is  fell  murder 
growing  up?  For  grievous  unto  mortal  men  are  pollutions 
that  come  of  kindred  blood  poured  on  the  earth,  woes  to  suit 
each  crime  hurled  from  heaven  on  the  murderer's  house. 

First  Son  [withiTi]  —  Ah  me,  what  can  I  do  ?  Whither  fly 
to  escape  my  mother's  blows  ? 

Second  Son  [within']  — I  know  not,  sweet  brother  mine;  we 
are  undone. 

Chorus  —  Didst  hear,  didst  hear  the  children's  cry?  O 
lady,  born  to  sorrow,  victim  of  an  evil  fate !  Shall  I  enter  the 
house?  For  the  children's  sake  I  am  resolved  to  ward  off  the 
murder. 

First  Son  \ivithin']  —  Yea,  by  heaven  I  adjure  you ;  help, 
your  aid  is  needed. 

Second  Son  [ivithin]  —  Even  now  the  toils  of  the  sword  are 
closing  round  us. 

Chorus  —  O  hapless  mother,  surely  thou  hast  a  heart  of 
stone  or  steel  to  slay  the  offspring  of  thy  womb  by  such  a  mur- 
derous doom.  Of  all  the  wives  of  yore  I  know  but  one  who 
laid  her  hand  upon  her  children  dear,  even  Ino,  whom  the  gods 


MEDEA.  635 

did  madden  in  the  day  that  the  wife  of  Zeus  drove  her  wander- 
ing from  her  home.  But  she,  poor  sufferer,  flung  herself  into 
the  sea  because  of  the  foul  murder  of  her  children,  leaping  o'er 
the  wave-beat  cliff,  and  in  her  death  was  she  united  to  her 
children  twain.  Can  there  be  any  deed  of  horror  left  to  follow 
this?  Woe  for  the  wooing  of  women  fraught  with  disaster! 
What  sorrows  hast  thou  caused  for  men  ere  now ! 

Jason  —  Ladies,  stationed  near  this  house,  pray  tell  me  is 
the  author  of  these  hideous  deeds,  Medea,  still  within,  or  hath 
she  fled  from  hence  ?  For  she  must  hide  beneath  the  earth  or 
soar  on  wings  towards  heaven's  vault,  if  she  would  avoid  the 
vengeance  of  the  royal  house.  Is  she  so  sure  she  will  escape  her- 
self unpunished  from  this  house,  when  she  hath  slain  the  rulers  of 
the  land?  But  enough  of  this !  I  am  forgetting  her  children. 
As  for  her,  those  whom  she  hath  wronged  will  do  the  like  by 
her;  but  I  am  come  to  save  the  children's  life,  lest  the  victims' 
kin  visit  their  wrath  on  me,  in  vengeance  for  the  murder  foul, 
wrought  by  my  children's  mother. 

Choriis  —  Unhappy  man,  thou  knowest  not  the  full  extent 
of  thy  misery,  else  had  thou  never  said  those  words. 

Jason  —  How  now  ?     Can  she  want  to  kill  me  too  ? 

C/iorws  —  Thy  sons  are  dead;  slain  by  their  own  mother's 
hand. 

Jason  — O  God!  what  sayest  thou?  Woman,  thou  hast 
sealed  my  doom. 

Chorus  — Thy  children  are  no  more;  be  sure  of  this. 

Jason  —  Where  slew  she  them;  within  the  palace  or  out- 
side? 

Chorus  — Throve  wide  the   doors   and  see   thy  children's 

murdered  corpses. 

Jiisow  — Haste,  ye  slaves,  loose  the  bolts,  undo  the  fasten- 
ings, that  I  may  see  the  sight  of  twofold  woe,  my  murdered 
sons  and  her,  whose  blood  in  vengeance  I  will  shed. 

[Medea  in  mid  air,  on  a  chariot  drawn  hy  dragons;  the 
children's  corpses  ly  her. 

Medea  —  Why  shake  those  doors  and  attempt  to  loose  their 
bolts,  in  quest  of  the  dead  and  me  their  murderess?  From 
such  toil  desist.  If  thou  wouldst  aught  with  me,  say  on,  if  so 
thou  wilt ;  but  never  shalt  thou  lay  hand  on  me,  so  swift  the 
steeds  the  sun,  my  father's  sire,  to  me  doth  give  to  save  me 
from  the  hand  of  my  foes. 

Jason  —  Accursed  woman!  by  gods,  by  me   and  all  man- 


636  MEDEA. 

kind  abhorred  as  never  woman  was,  who  hadst  the  heart  to  stab 
thy  babes,  thou  their  mother,  leaving  me  undone  and  childless; 
this  hast  thou  done  and  still  dost  gaze  upon  the  sun  and  earth 
after  this  deed  most  impious?  Curses  on  thee!  I  now  per- 
ceive what  then  I  missed  in  the  day  I  brought  thee,  fraught 
with  doom,  from  thy  home  in  a  barbarian  land  to  dwell  in 
Hellas,  traitress  to  thy  sire  and  to  the  land  that  nurtured  thee. 
On  me  the  gods  have  hurled  the  curse  that  dogged  thy  steps, 
for  thou  didst  slay  thy  brother  at  his  hearth  ere  thou  cam'st 
aboard  our  fair  ship  Argo.  Such  was  the  outset  of  thy  life 
of  crime ;  then  didst  thou  wed  with  me,  and  having  borne  me 
sons  to  glut  thy  passion's  lust,  thou  now  hast  slain  them.  Not 
one  amongst  the  wives  of  Hellas  e'er  had  dared  this  deed;  yet 
before  them  all  I  chose  thee  for  my  wife,  wedding  a  foe  to  be 
my  doom,  no  woman,  but  a  lioness  fiercer  than  Tyrrhene  Scylla 
in  nature.  But  with  reproaches  heaped  a  thousandfold  I  can- 
not wound  thee,  so  brazen  is  thy  nature.  Perish,  vile  sorceress, 
murderess  of  thy  babes!  Whilst  I  must  mourn  my  luckless 
fate,  for  I  shall  ne'er  enjoy  my  new-found  bride,  nor  shall  I 
have  the  children,  whom  I  bred  and  reared,  alive  to  say  the 
last  farewell  to  me ;  nay,  I  have  lost  them. 

Medea — To  this  thy  speech  I  could  have  made  a  long  retort, 
but  Father  Zeus  knows  well  all  I  have  done  for  thee,  and  the 
treatment  thou  hast  given  me.  Yet  thou  wert  not  ordained  to 
scorn  my  love  and  lead  a  life  of  joy  in  mockery  of  me,  nor  was 
thy  ro3"al  bride  nor  Creon,  who  gave  thee  a  second  wife,  to 
thrust  me  from  this  land  and  rue  it  not.  Wherefore,  if  thoa 
wilt,  call  me  e'en  a  lioness,  and  Scylla,  whose  home  is  in  the 
Tyrrhene  land ;  for  I  in  turn  have  wrung  thy  heart,  as  well 
I  might. 

Jason  —  Thou,  too,  art  grieved  thyself,  and  sharest  in  my 
sorrow. 

Medea  —  Be  well  assured  I  am  ;  but  it  relieves  my  pain  to 
know  thou  canst  not  mock  at  me. 

Jason  —  O  my  children,  how  vile  a  mother  ye  have  found ! 

Medea  —  My  sons,  your  father's  feeble  lust  has  been  your 
ruin  ! 

Jason  —  'Twas  not  my  hand,  at  any  rate,  that  slew  them. 

Medea  —  No,  but  thy  foul  treatment  of  me,  and  thy  new 
marriage. 

Jason  —  Ditlst  think  that  marriage  cause  enough  to  murder 
them  ? 


MEDEA.  637 

Medea  —  Dost  think  a  woman  counts  this  a  trifling  injury? 

Jason  —  So  she  be  self-restrained ;  but  in  thy  eyes  all  is 
evil. 

Medea  —  Thy  sons  are  dead  and  gone.  That  will  stab  thy 
heart. 

Jason  —  They  live,  methinks,  to  bring  a  curse  upon  thy 
head. 

Medea  —  The  gods  know,  whoso  of  them  began  this  trou- 
blous coil. 

Jason  —  Indeed,  they  know  that  hateful  heart  of  thine. 

Medea  —  Thou  art  as  hateful.  I  am  aweary  of  thy  bitter 
tongue. 

Jason  —  And  I  likewise  of  thine.     But  parting  is  easy. 

Medea  —  Say  how ;  what  am  I  to  do  ?  for  I  am  fain  as  thou 
to  go. 

Jason  —  Give  up  to  me  those  dead,  to  bury  and  lament. 

Medea  —  No,  never!  I  will  bury  them  myself,  bearing 
them  to  Hera's  sacred  field,  who  watches  o'er  the  Cape,  that 
none  of  their  foes  may  insult  them  by  pulling  down  their 
tombs ;  and  in  this  land  of  Sisyphus  I  will  ordain  hereafter  a 
solemn  feast  and  mystic  rites  to  atone  for  this  impious  murder. 
Myself  will  now  to  the  land  of  Erechtheus,  to  dwell  with  ^geus, 
Pandion's  son.  But  thou,  as  well  thou  mayest,  shalt  die  a 
caitiff's  death,  thy  head  crushed  'neath  a  shattered  relic  of 
Argo,  Avhen  thou  hast  seen  the  bitter  ending  of  my  marriage. 

Jason  —  The  curse  of  our  sons'  avenging  spirit  and  of  Justice, 
that  calls  for  blood,  be  on  thee  ! 

Medea  —  What  god  or  power  divine  hears  thee,  breaker  of 
oaths  and  every  law  of  hospitality? 

Jason  —  Fie  upon  thee !  cursed  witch  !  child  murderess ! 

Medea  —  To  thy  house!  go,  bury  thy  Avife. 

Jason  —  I  go,  bereft  of  both  my  sons. 

Medea  —  Thy  grief  is  yet  to  come  ;  wait  till  old  age  is  with 
thee  too. 

Jason  —  O  my  dear,  dear  children ! 

Medea  —  Dear  to  their  mother,  not  to  thee. 

Jason  —  And  yet  thou  didst  slay  them  ? 
Medea  —  Yea,  to  vex  thy  heart. 

Jason  —  One  last  fond  kiss,  ah  me !  I  fain  would  on  their 
lips  imprint. 

Medea  —  Embraces  now,  and  fond  farewells  for  them  ;  but 
then  a  cold  repulse  ! 


638  FAITHFUL  UNTO  DEATH. 

Jason  —  By  heaven  I  do  adjure  thee,  let  me  touch  their 
tender  skin. 

Medea  —  No,  no !  in  vain  this  word  has  sped  its  flight. 

Jason  —  O  Zeus,  dost  hear  how  I  am  driven  hence ;  dost 
mark  the  treatment  I  receive  from  this  she-lion,  fell  murderess 
of  her  yoimg  ?  Yet  so  far  as  I  may  and  can,  I  raise  for  them 
a  dirge,  and  do  adjure  the  gods  to  witness  how  thou  hast  slain 
my  sons,  and  wilt  not  suffer  me  to  embrace  or  bury  their  dead 
bodies.  Would  I  had  never  begotten  them  to  see  thee  slay 
them  after  all ! 

Chorus  —  Many  a  fate  doth  Zeus  dispense,  high  on  his  Olym- 
pian throne  ;  oft  do  the  gods  bring  things  to  pass  beyond  man's 
expectation ;  that  which  we  thought  would  be  is  not  fulfilled, 
while  for  the  unlooked-for  God  finds  out  a  way;  and  such  hath 
been  the  issue  of  this  matter. 


FAITHFUL  UNTO  DEATH.^ 

By  charlotte  M.  YONGE. 

[Chablotte  M.  Yonge,  English  novelist,  was  born  in  1823.  Her  first  cele- 
brated novel,  "Tlie  Heir  of  Redclyffe,"  was  published  in  1853,  the  equally- 
well-known  "Daisy  Chain"  in  1850,  and  "Dynevor  Terrace"  in  1857;  she 
has  written  many  others.     Her  "  Book  of  Golden  Deeds  "  appeared  in  1864.] 

The  spirit  of  self-devotion  is  so  beautiful  and  noble,  that 
even  when  the  act  is  performed  in  obedience  to  the  dictates  of 
a  false  religion,  it  is  impossible  not  to  be  struck  with  admira- 
tion and  almost  reverence  for  the  unconscious  type  of  the  one 
great  act  that  has  hallowed  every  other  sacrifice.  Thus  it  was 
that  Codrus,  the  Athenian  king,  has  ever  since  been  honored 
for  the  tradition  that  he  gave  his  own  life  to  secure  the  safety 
of  his  people  ;  and  there  is  a  touching  story,  with  neither  name 
nor  place,  of  a  heathen  monarch  who  was  bidden  by  his  priests 
to  appease  the  supposed  wrath  of  his  gods  by  the  sacrifice  of 
the  being  dearest  to  him.  His  young  son  had  been  seized  on  as 
his  most  beloved,  when  his  wife  rushed  between  and  declared 
that  her  son  must  live,  and  not  by  his  death  rob  her  of  her 
right  to  fall,  as  her  husband's  dearest.  The  priest  looked  at 
the  father  ;  the  face  that  had  been  sternly  composed  before  was 
full  of  uncontrolled  anguish  as  he  sprang  forward  to  save  the 

'  By  permission  of  the  publishers,  Macmillan  &  Co.,  Ltd. 


FAITHFUL  UNTO  DEATH.  639 

wife  rather  than  the  child.  That  impulse  was  an  answer,  like 
the  entreaty  of  the  mother  before  Solomon  ;  the  priest  struck 
the  fatal  blow  ere  the  king's  hand  could  withhold  him,  and  the 
mother  died  with  a  last  look  of  exceeding  joy  at  her  husband's 
love  and  her  son's  safety.  Human  sacrifices  are  of  course 
accursed,  and  even  the  better  sort  of  heathens  viewed  them 
with  horror  ;  but  the  voluntary  confronting  of  death,  even  at 
the  call  of  a  distorted  presage  of  future  atonement,  required 
qualities  that  were  perhaps  the  highest  that  could  be  exercised 
among  those  who  were  devoid  of  the  light  of  truth. 

In  the  year  339  there  was  a  remarkable  instance  of  such 
devotion.  The  Romans  were  at  war  with  the  Latins,  a  nation 
dwelling  to  the  south  of  them,  and  almost  exactly  resembling 
themselves  in  language,  habits,  government,  and  fashions  of 
fighting.  Indeed  the  city  of  Rome  itself  was  but  an  offshoot 
from  the  old  Latin  kingdom  ;  and  there  was  not  much  differ- 
ence between  the  two  nations  even  in  courage  and  perseverance. 
The  two  consuls  of  the  year  were  Titus  Manlius  Torquatus 
and  Publius  Decius  Mus.  They  were  both  very  distinguished 
men.  Manlius  was  a  patrician,  or  one  of  the  high  ancient 
nobles  of  Rome,  and  had  in  early  youth  fought  a  single  combat 
with  a  gigantic  Gaul,  who  offered  himself,  like  Goliath,  as  a 
champion  of  his  tribe ;  he  had  slain  him  and  taken  from  him 
a  gold  torque,  or  collar,  whence  his  surname  Torquatus. 
Decius  was  a  plebeian  ;  one  of  the  free  though  not  noble  citizens 
who  had  votes,  but  only  within  a  few  years  had  been  capable  of 
being  chosen  to  the  higher  offices  of  state,  and  who  looked  upon 
every  election  to  the  consulship  as  a  victory.  Three  years  pre- 
viously, when  a  tribune  in  command  of  a  legion,  Decius  had 
saved  the  consul,  Cornelius  Cossus,  from  a  dangerous  situation, 
and  enabled  him  to  gain  a  great  victory  ;  and  this  exploit  was 
remembered,  and  led  to  the  choice  of  this  well-experienced 
soldier  as  the  colleague  of  Manlius. 

The  two  consuls  both  went  out  together  in  command  of  the 
forces,  each  having  a  separate  army,  and  intending  to  act  in 
concert.  They  marched  to  the  beautiful  country  at  the  foot 
of  Mount  Vesuvius,  which  was  then  a  harmless  mountain 
clothed  with  chestnut  woods,  with  spaces  opening  between, 
where  farms  and  vineyards  rejoiced  in  the  sunshine  and  the 
fresh  breezes  of  the  lovely  blue  bay  that  lay  stretched  beneath. 
Those  who  climbed  to  the  summit  might  indeed  find  beds  of 
ashes  and  the  Jagged  edge  of  a  huge  basin  or  gulf  ;  the  houses 


640  FAITHFUL   UNTO   DEATH. 

and  walls  were  built  of  dark  red  and  black  material  that  once 
had  flowed  from  the  crater  in  boiling  torrents  :  but  these  had 
long  since  cooled,  and  so  long  was  it  since  a  column  of  smoke 
had  been  seen  to  rise  from  the  mountain  top,  that  it  only  re- 
mained as  a  matter  of  tradition  that  this  region  was  one  of 
mysterious  fire,  and  that  the  dark  cool  lake  Avernus,  near  the 
mountain  skirts,  was  the  very  entrance  to  the  shadowy  realms 
beneath,  that  were  supposed  to  be  inhabited  by  the  spirits  of 
the  dead. 

It  might  be  that  the  neighborhood  of  this  lake,  with  the 
dread  imaginations  connected  with  it  by  pagan  fancy,  influenced 
even  the  stout  hearts  of  the  consuls  ;  for,  the  night  after  they 
came  in  sight  of  the  enemy,  each  dreamt  the  same  dream, 
namely,  that  he  beheld  a  mighty  form  of  gigantic  height  and 
stature,  who  told  him  "  that  the  victory  was  decreed  to  that 
army  of  the  two  whose  leader  should  devote  himself  to  the  Dii 
Manes,"  that  is,  to  the  deities  who  watched  over  the  shades  of 
the  dead.  Probably  these  older  Romans  held  the  old  Etruscan 
belief,  which  took  these  "gods  beneath"  to  be  winged  beings, 
who  bore  away  the  departing  soul,  weighed  its  merits  and  de- 
merits, and  placed  it  in  a  region  of  peace  or  of  woe,  according 
to  its  deserts.  This  was  part  of  the  grave  and  earnest  faith 
that  gave  the  earlier  Romans  such  truth  and  resolution  ;  but 
latterly  they  so  corrupted  it  with  the  Greek  myths,  that,  in 
after  times,  they  did  not  even  know  who  the  gods  of  Decius 
were. 

At  daybreak  the  two  consuls  sought  one  another  out,  and 
told  their  dreams  ;  and  they  agreed  that  they  would  join  their 
armies  in  one,  Decius  leading  the  right  and  Manlius  the  left 
wing  ;  and  that  whichever  found  his  troops  giving  way,  should 
at  once  rush  into  the  enemy's  columns  and  die,  to  secure  the 
victory  to  his  colleague.  At  the  same  time  strict  commands 
were  given  that  no  Roman  should  come  out  of  his  rank  to  fight 
in  single  combat  with  the  enemy  ;  a  necessary  regulation,  as 
the  Latins  were  so  like,  in  every  respect,  to  the  Romans,  that 
there  would  have  been  fatal  confusion  had  there  been  any 
mingling  together  before  the  battle.  Just  as  this  command  had 
been  given  out,  young  Titus  Manlius,  the  son  of  the  consul, 
met  a  Latin  leader,  who  called  him  by  name  and  challenged 
him  to  fight  hand  to  hand.  The  youth  was  emulous  of  the 
honor  his  father  had  gained  by  his  combat  at  the  same  age  with 
the  Gaul,  but  forgot  both  the  present  edict  and  that  his  father 


FAITHFUL  UNTO  DEATH.  641 

had  scrupulously  asked  permission  before  accepting  the  chal- 
lenge. He  at  once  came  forward,  and  after  a  brave  conflict, 
slew  his  adversary,  and  taking  his  armor,  presented  himself  at 
his  father's  tent  and  laid  the  spoils  at  his  feet. 

But  old  Manlius  turned  aside  sadly,  and  collected  his  troops 
to  hear  his  address  to  his  son  :  "  You  have  transgressed,"  he 
said,  "  the  discipline  which  has  been  the  support  of  the  Roman 
people,  and  reduced  me  to  the  hard  necessity  of  either  forget- 
ting myself  and  mine,  or  else  the  regard  I  owe  to  the  general 
safety.  Rome  must  not  suffer  by  one  fault.  We  must  expiate 
it  ourselves.  A  sad  example  shall  we  be,  but  a  wholesome 
one  to  the  Roman  youth.  For  me,  both  the  natural  love  of  a 
father  and  that  specimen  thou  hast  given  of  thy  valor  move  me 
exceedingly  ;  but  since  either  the  consular  authority  must  be 
established  by  thy  death,  or  destroyed  by  thy  impunity,  I  can- 
not think,  if  thou  be  a  true  Manlius,  that  thou  wilt  be  backward 
to  repair  the  breach  thou  hast  made  in  military  discipline  by 
undergoing  the  just  meed  of  thine  offense."  He  then  placed 
the  wreath  of  leaves,  the  reward  of  a  victor,  upon  his  son's 
head,  and  gave  the  command  to  the  lictor  to  bind  the  young 
man  to  a  stake,  and  strike  off  his  head.  The  troops  stood 
round  as  men  stunned,  no  one  durst  utter  a  word ;  the  son  sub- 
mitted without  one  complaint,  since  his  death  was  for  the  good 
of  Rome  :  and  the  father,  trusting  that  the  doom  of  the  Dii 
Manes  was  about  to  overtake  him,  beheld  the  brave  but  rash 
young  head  fall,  then  watched  the  corpse  covered  with  the 
trophies  won  from  the  Latin,  and  made  no  hindrance  to  the 
glorious  obsequies  with  which  the  whole  army  honored  this 
untimely  death.  Strict  discipline  was  indeed  established,  and 
no  one  again  durst  break  his  rank  ;  but  the  younger  men 
greatly  hated  Manlius  for  his  severity,  and  gave  him  no  credit 
for  the  agony  he  had  concealed  while  giving  up  his  gallant  son 
to  the  well-being  of  Rome. 

A  few  days  after,  the  expected  battle  took  place,  and  after 

some  little  time  the  front  rank  of  Decius'  men  began  to  fall 

back  upon  the  line  in  their  rear.     This  was  the  token  he  had 

waited  for.     He  called  to  Valerius,  the  chief  priest  of  Rome, 

to  consecrate  him,  and  was  directed  to  put  on  his  chief  robe  of 

office,  the  beautiful  purple  toga  prcetexta,  to  cover  his  head,  and 

standing  on  his  javelin,  call  aloud  to  the  "  nine  gods  "  to  accept 

his  devotion,  to  save  the  Roman  legions,  and  strike  terror  into 

his   enemies.     This   done,  he  commanded  his  lictors  to  carry 
11 


642  FAITHFUL   UNTO   DEATH. 

word  to  his  colleague  that  the  sacrifice  was  accomplished,  and 
then,  girding  his  robe  round  him  in  the  manner  adopted  in 
sacrificing  to  the  gods,  he  mounted  his  Avhite  horse,  and  rushed 
like  lightning  into  the  thickest  of  the  Latins.  At  first  they 
fell  away  on  all  sides  as  if  some  heavenly  apparition  had  come 
down  on  them;  then,  as  some  recognized  him,  they  closed  in 
on  him,  and  pierced  his  breast  with  their  weapons ;  but  even  as 
he  fell  the  superstition  that  a  devoted  leader  was  sure  to  win 
the  field  came  full  on  their  minds,  they  broke  and  fled.  Mean- 
while, the  message  came  to  Manlius,  and  drew  from  him  a 
burst  of  tears  —  tears  that  he  had  not  shed  for  his  son  —  his 
hope  of  himself  meeting  the  doom  and  ending  his  sorrow  was 
gone  ;  but  none  the  less  he  nerved  himself  to  complete  the 
advantage  gained  by  Decius'  death.  Only  one  wing  of  the 
Latins  had  fled,  the  other  fought  long  and  bravely ;  and  when 
at  last  it  was  defeated,  and  cut  down  on  the  field  of  battle, 
both  conqueror  and  conquered  declared  that,  if  Manlius  had 
been  the  leader  of  the  Latins,  they  would  have  had  the  victory. 
Manlius  afterwards  completely  subdued  the  Latins,  who  became 
incorporated  with  the  Romans ;  but  bravely  as  he  had  borne 
up,  his  health  gave  way  under  his  sorrow,  and  before  the  end 
of  the  year  he  was  unable  to  take  the  field. 

Forty-five  years  later,  in  the  year  294,  another  Decius  was 
consul.  He  was  the  son  of  the  first  devoted  Decius,  and  had 
shown  himself  worthy  of  his  name,  both  as  a  citizen  and  soldier. 
His  first  consulate  had  been  in  conjunction  with  one  of  the 
most  high-spirited  and  famous  Roman  nobles,  Quintus  Fabius, 
surnamed  Maximus,  or  the  Greatest,  and  at  three  years'  end 
they  were  again  chosen  together,  when  the  Romans  had  been 
brought  into  considerable  peril  by  an  alliance  between  the 
Gauls  and  the  Samnites,  their  chief  enemies  in  Italy. 

One  being  a  patrician  and  the  other  a  plebeian,  there  was 
every  attempt  made  at  Rome  to  stir  up  jealousies  and  dissen- 
sions between  them  ;  but  both  were  much  too  noble  and  gener- 
ous to  be  thus  set  one  against  the  other ;  and  when  Fabius 
found  how  serious  was  the  state  of  affairs  in  Etruria,  he  sent  to 
Rome  to  entreat  that  Decius  would  come  and  act  with  him. 
"  With  him  I  shall  never  want  forces,  nor  have  too  many  ene- 
mies to  deal  with." 

The  Gauls,  since  the  time  of  Brennus,  had  so  entirely  settled 
in  northern  Italy,  that  it  had  acquired  the  name  of  Cisalpine 
Graul,  and  they  were  as  warlike  as  ever,  while  better  armed  and 


FAITHFUL    UNTO    DEATH.  643 

trained.  The  united  armies  of  Gauls,  Samnites,  and  their 
allies,  together,  are  said  to  have  amounted  to  143,330  foot  and 
46,000  horse,  and  the  Roman  army  consisted  of  four  legions, 
24,000  in  all,  with  an  unspecified  number  of  horse.  The  place 
of  battle  was  at  Sentinum,  and  here  for  the  first  time  the  Gauls 
brought  armed  chariots  into  use,  —  probably  the  wicker  chariots, 
with  scythes  in  the  midst  of  the  clumsy  wooden  wheels,  which 
were  used  by  the  Celts  in  Britain  two  centuries  later.  It  was 
the  first  time  the  Romans  had  encountered  these  barbarous 
vehicles :  they  were  taken  by  surprise,  the  horses  started,  and 
could  not  be  brought  back  to  the  charge,  and  the  legions  were 
mowed  down  like  corn  where  the  furious  Gaul  impelled  his 
scythe.  Decius  shouted  in  vain,  and  tried  to  gather  his  men 
and  lead  them  back  ;  but  the  terror  at  this  new  mode  of  war- 
fare had  so  mastered  them,  that  they  paid  no  attention  to  his 
call.  Then,  half  in  policy,  half  in  superstition,  he  resolved  to 
follow  his  father  in  his  death.  He  called  the  chief  priest, 
Marcus  Livius,  and  standing  on  his  javelin,  went  through  the 
same  formula  of  self-dedication,  and  in  like  manner  threw  him- 
self, alone  and  unarmed,  in  the  midst  of  the  enemy,  among 
whom  he  soon  fell,  under  many  a  savage  stroke.  The  priest, 
himself  a  gallant  soldier,  called  to  the  troops  that  their  vic- 
tory was  now  secured,  and  thoroughly  believing  him,  they  let 
him  lead  them  back  to  the  charge,  and  routed  the  Gauls ; 
whilst  Fabius  so  well  did  his  part  against  the  other  nations, 
that  the  victory  was  complete,  and  25,000  enemies  were  slain. 
So  covered  was  the  body  of  Decius  by  the  corpses  of  his  ene- 
mies, that  all  that  day  it  could  not  be  found  ;  but  on  the  next  it 
was  discovered,  and  P'abius,  with  a  full  heart,  pronounced  the 
funeral  oration  of  the  second  Decius,  who  had  willingly  offered 
himself  to  turn  the  tide  of  battle  in  favor  of  his  country.  It 
was  the  last  of  such  acts  of  dedication  —  the  Romans  became 
more  learned  and  philosophical,  and  perhaps  more  reasonable ; 
and  yet,  mistaken  as  was  the  object,  it  seems  a  falling  off  that, 
two  hundred  years  later,  Cicero  should  not  know  who  were  the 
"  nine  gods  "  of  the  Decii,  and  should  regard  their  sacrifice  as 
"heroic  indeed,  but  unworthy  of  men  of  understanding." 


644  THE  KNIGHTS. 

FROM   THE   "KNIGHTS"   OF   ARISTOPHANES. 

Metrical  Translations  by  JOHN  HOOKHAM  FRERE. 

[Aristophanes,  tlie  greatest  of  Greek  comic  poets,  was  born  probably  be- 
tweea  b.c.  450  and  446,  and  died  not  later  than  b.c.  380.  Little  is  known  of 
his  personal  history  beyond  the  allusions  in  his  own  works.  His  first  comedy, 
the  "Banqueters,"  appeared  in  b.c.  427,  and  was  followed  by  over  forty  others, 
of  which  there  are  extant  only  eleven:  "  Acharnians,"  "Knights,"  "Clouds," 
"Wasps,"  "Peace,"  "Birds,"  "  Lysistrata,"  "  Thesmophoriazusse,"  "Frogs," 
"  Ecclesiazusse,"  and  "  Plutus."  Aristophanes  is  the  sole  extant  representative 
of  the  so-called  Old  Comedy  of  Athens.] 

Deiius,  an  old  citizen  of  Athens,  and  in  whom  the  Athenian  people  are 
personified  =  the  John  Bull  or  Uncle  Sam  of  Athens. 

Demosthenes  )  the  two  most  fortunate  and  able  generals  of  Athens  during 

NiciAS  >  the  Peloponnesian  War,  represented  as  slaves  of  Demus. 

Cleon,  a  tanner  (the  Paphlagonian,  from  7ra<^Xa^co,  /  mouth  or  foam), 
steward  to  Demus  and  the  leading  demagogue  of  Athens. 

Sausage  Seller  (afterwards  Agoracritus). 

Chorus  of  Knights. 

Scene :  Space  before  Demus'  House. 

After  a  noise  of  lashes  and  screams  from  behind  the  scenes, 
Demosthenes  and  Nicias  enter  in  the  di'ess  of  slaves. 

Demosthenes — 

Out !  out  alas !  what  a  scandal !  what  a  shame ! 

May  Jove  in  his  utter  wrath  crush  and  confound 

That  rascally  new-bought  Paphlagonian  slave ! 

lor  from  the  very  first  day  that  he  came  — 

Brought  here  for  a  plague  and  a  mischief  amongst  us  ail  — 

We're  beaten  and  abused  continually. 
Nicias  livhimjyering^  — 

I  say  so  too,  with  all  my  heart  I  do, 

A  rascal,  with  his  scandals  and  his  lies! 

A  rascally  Paphlagonian !  so  he  is ! 
Demosthenes  — 

Well,  come  now,  if  you  like,  I'll  state  your  case 

To  the  audience  here  before  us.    \^To  the  audience']  Here 
are  we 

A  couple  of  servants  —  with  a  master  at  home 

Next  door  to  the  hustings  —  He's  a  man  in  years, 


THE  KNIGHTS.  645 

A  kind  of  bean- fed  ^  husky,  testy  character, 

Choleric  and  brutal  at  times,  and  partly  deaf. 

It's  near  about  a  month  now  that  he  went 

And  bought  a  slave  out  of  a  tanner's  yard, 

A  Paphlagonian  born,  and  brought  him  home, 

As  wicked  a  slanderous  wretch  as  ever  lived. 

This  fellow,  the  Paphlagonian,  has  found  out 

The  blind  side  of  our  master's  understanding. 

Moreover,  when  we  get  things  out  of  compliment 

As  a  present  from  our  master,  he  contrives 

To  snatch  'em  and  serve  'em  up  before  our  faces. 

I'd  made  a  Spartan  cake  at  Pylos  lately,- 

And  mixed  and  kneaded  it  well,  and  Avatched  the  baking ; 

But  he  stole  round  before  me  and  served  it  up : 

And  he  never  allows  us  to  come  near  our  master 

To  speak  a  word ;  but  stands  behind  his  back 

At  mealtimes,  with  a  monstrous  leather  flyflap, 

Slapping  and  whisking  it  round  and  rapping  us  off. 

[^Turni7ig  to  Nicias]  — 

So  now,  my  worthy  fellow,  we  must  take 

A  fixed  determination.     Where's  the  Paphlagonian  ? 

Nicias  — 

He's  fast  asleep  —  within  there,  on  his  back. 

On  a  heap  of  hides  —  the  rascal !  with  a  belly  full 

With  a  hash  of  confiscations  half  digested. 

Demosthenes  — 

That's  well !  — Now  fill  me  a  hearty,  lusty  draught. 

Nicias  — 

Make  the  libation  first,  and  drink  this  cup 
To  the  good  Genius. 

Demosthenes  [ctfler  a  long  draught']  — 

0  most  worthy  Genius  ! 
Good  Genius !  'tis  your  genius  that  inspires  me ! 

[Demosthenes  remains  in  a  sort  of  drunken  burlesque  ecstasy. 

Nicias  — 

Why,  what's  the  matter  ? 

Demosthenes —  I'm  inspired  to  tell  you 

That  you  must  steal  the  Paphlagonian's  oracles 
Whilst  he's  asleep. 

Nicias —  Oh  dear,  then,  I'm  afraid. 

[Exit  Nicias. 

^  Allusion  to  the  beans  used  in  balloting. 

2  After  Demosthenes  had  blockaded  four  hundred  of  the  principal  citizens  of 
Sparta  in  an  island  in  the  bay  of  Pylos,  Cleon  was  sent  to  supersede  him.  Aided 
by  the  advice  of  Demosthenes,  whom  he  retained  as  his  lieutenant,  he  compelled 
the  Spartans  to  surrender. 


646  THE   KNIGHTS. 

Demosthenes  — 

Come,  I  must  meditate,  and  consult  my  pitcher ; 

And  moisten  my  understanding  a  little  more. 
[TT/iiZe  NiciAs  is  absent,  Demosthenes  is  drinking  repeatedly 

and  getting  drunlc. 
Nicias  [^reentering  with  a  packef]  — 

How  fast  asleep  the  Paphlagonian  was  ! 

How  mortally,  Lord  bless  me  !  did  lie  snore ! 

However,  I've  contrived  to  carry  off 

The  sacred  Oracle  that  he  kept  so  secret. 

I've  stolen  it  from  him. 
Demosthenes  [very  drunk']  —    That's  my  clever  fellow ! 

Here,  give  us  hold ;  I  must  read  them. 

[  With  the  papers  in  his  hand. 

Ay,  there  it  is,  —  you  rascally  Paphlagonian ! 

This  was  the  prophecy  that  you  kept  so  secret. 
Nicias  — 

What's  there  ? 
Demosthenes  —        Why,  there's  a  thing  to  ruin  him, 

With  the  manner  of  his  destruction  all  foretold. 
Nicias  — 

As  how  ? 
Demosthenes  [very  drunlc]  — 

Why,  the  Oracle  tells  you  how,  distinctly. 

And  all  about  it  —  in  a  perspicuous  manner  — 

That  a  jobber  in  hemp  and  llax  is  first  ordained 

To  hold  the  administration  of  affairs.^ 
Nicias  — 

Well,  there's  one  jobber.     Who's  the  next?     Read  on ! 
Demosthenes  — 

A  cattle  jobber  must  succeed  to  him.^ 
Nicias  — 

More  jobbers  !  well  —  then  what  becomes  of  him  ? 
Demosthenes  — 

He,  too,  shall  prosper,  till  a  viler  rascal 

Shall  be  raised  up  and  shall  prevail  against  him, 

In  the  person  of  a  Paphlagonian  tanner, 

A  loud,  rapacious,  leather-selling  ruffian. 
Nicias  — 

Is  it  foretold,  then,  that  the  cattle  jobber 

Must  be  destroyed  by  the  seller  of  leather? 
Demosthenes  —  Yes. 


1  After  the  death  of  Pericles,  Eacrates  and  Lysicles  were  the  leaders  of  the 
people  for  a  short  time. 


THE  KNIGHTS.  647 

Nicias  — 

Oh,  dear !  our  sellers  and  jobbers  are  at  an  end. 
Demosthenes  — 

Not  yet ;  there's  still  another  to  succeed  him, 

Of  a  most  uncommon  notable  occupation. 
Nicias  — 

Who's  that  ?    Do  tell  me  ! 
Demosthenes  —  Must  I  ? 

Nicias —  To  be  sure  — 

Demosthenes  — 

A  sausage  seller  it  is  that  supersedes  him. 
Nicias  — 

A  sausage  seller  !  marvelous,  indeed  ! 

Most  wonderful !     But  where  can  he  be  found  ? 
Demosthenes  — 

We  must  seek  him  out. 
Nicias  —  But  see  there,  where  he  comes ! 

Sent  hither  providentially,  as  it  were  ! 
Demosthenes  — 

0  happy  man!  celestial  sausage  seller ! 

Friend,  guardian,  and  protector  of  us  all  : 

Come  forward ;  save  your  friends,  and  save  the  country. 
Sausage  Seller — • 

Do  you  call  me  ? 
Demosthenes  —  Yes,  we  called  to  you  to  announce 

The  high  and  happy  destiny  that  awaits  you. 
Nicias  — 

Come  now,  you  should  set  him  free  from  the  incumbrance 

Of  his  table  and  basket ;  r.nd  explain  to  him 

The  tenor  and  the  purport  of  the  Oracle, 

While  I  go  back  to  watch  the  Paphlagonian. 

[Exit  KiciAs. 
Demosthenes  [to  the  Sausage  Seller,  graveli/l^  — 

Set  these  poor  wares  aside ;  and  now,  —  bow  down 

To  the  ground ;  and  adore  the  jXDwers  of  earth  and  heaven. 
Sausage  Seller  — 

Heyday  !     Why,  what  do  you  mean  ? 
Demosthenes  —  0  happy  man ! 

Unconscious  of  your  glorious  destiny. 

Now  mean  and  unregarded ;  but  to-morrow,  • 

The  mightiest  of  the  mighty,  Lord  of  Athens  ! 
Sausage  Seller  — 

Come,  master,  what's  the  use  of  making  game  ? 

Why  can't  ye  let  me  wash  the  guts  and  tripe, 

And  sell  my  sausages  in  peace  and  quiet  ? 


648  THE   KNIGHTS. 

Demosthenes  — 

0  simple  mortal,  cast  these  tlioaglits  aside ! 

Bid  guts  and  tripe  farewell !  —  Look  there  !  —  Behold 

\_Pointing  to  the  audience. 
The  mighty  assembled  multitude  before  ye ! 
Sausage  Seller  [loith  a  grumble  of  indifference']  — 

1  see  'em. 

Demosthenes  —  You  shall  be  tlieir  lord  aud  master, 

The  sovereign  and  ruler  of  them  all, 

Of  the  assemblies  and  tribunals,  fleets  and  armies. 

You  shall  trample  down  the  Senate  underfoot, 

Confound  and  crush  the  generals  and  commanders, 

Arrest,  imprison,  and  confine  in  irons. 
Sausage  Seller  — 

What  I  ? 
Demosthenes  —  Yes,  you ;  because  the  Oracle 

Predestines  you  to  sovereign  power  and  greatness. 
Sausage  Seller  — 

Are  there  any  means  of  making  a  great  man 

Of  a  sausage-making  fellow  such  as  I  ? 
Demosthenes  — 

The  very  means  you  have  must  make  ye  so, 

Low  breeding,  vulgar  birth,  and  impudence, 

These,  these  must  make  ye  what  you're  meant  to  be. 
Sausage  Seller — 

I  can't  imagine  that  I'm  good  for  much. 
Demosthenes  — 

Alas  !     But  why  do  you  say  so  ?    What's  the  meaning 

Of  these  misgivings  ?     Tell  me,  are  yo  allied 

To  the  families  of  the  gentry  ? 
Sausage  Seller —  Naugh,  not  I. 

I'm  of  the  lower  order. 
Demosthenes  —  What  happiness  !  — 

What  a  footing  it  will  give  ye !     What  a  groundwork 

Eor  confidence  and  favor  at  the  outset. 
Sausage  Seller  — 

But  bless  ye !  only  consider  my  education ! 

I  can  but  Ijarely  read  —  in  a  kind  of  way. 
Demosthenes  — 

That  makes  against  ye !  —  the  only  thing  against  ye  — 

The  being  able  to  read  in  any  way, 

For  now  no  lead  nor  influence  is  allowed 

To  liberal  arts  or  learned  education, 

But  to  the  brutal,  base,  and  underbred. 


THE  KNIGHTS.  649 

Sausage  Seller  — 

Still,  I'm  partly  doubtful  how  I  could 

Contrive  to  manage  an  administration. 
Demosthenes  — 

The  easiest  thing  in  nature!  —  nothing  easier! 

Stick  to  your  present  practice :  follow  it  up  . 

In  your  new  calling.     Mangle,  mince,  and  mash, 

Confound  and  hack  and  jumble  things  together! 

And  interlard  your  rhetoric  with  lumps 

Of  mawkish,  sweet,  and  greasy  flattery. 

Be  fulsome,  coarse,  and  bloody !  —  For  the  rest, 

All  qualities  combine,  all  circumstances. 

To  entitle  and  equip  you  for  command, 

A  filthy  voice,  a  vilkauous  countenance, 

A  vulgar  birth  and  parentage  and  breeding. 

Place  then  this  chaplet  on  your  brow  and  rouse 

Your  spirits  to  meet  him. 
Sausage  Seller—  Ay,  but  who  will  help  me  ? 

For  all  our  wealthier  people  are  alarmed 

And  terrified  at  him ;  and  the  meaner  sort 

In  a  manner  stupefied,  grov/n  dull  and  dumb. 
Demosthenes  — 

Why  there's  a  thousand  lusty  cavaliers. 

Ready  to  back  you,  that  detest  and  scorn  him; 

And  every  worthy,  well-born  citizen ; 

And  every  candid,  critical  spectator ; 

And  I  myself ;  and  the  help  of  Heaven  to  boot.  — 
Nicias  [in  alarm  from  behind  the  scenes]  — 

Oh  dear !  oh  dear !  the  Paphlagonian's  coming. 

Enter  Cleon  with  a  furious  look  and  voice. 
Gleon  — 

By  heaven  and  earth !  you  shall  abide  it  dearly, 

With  your  conspiracies  and  daily  plots 

Against  the  sovereign  people !     Hah !  what's  this  ?  — 

Dogs !  villains  ■  every  soul  of  ye  shall  die. 

[  TJie  Sausage  Seller  runs  off  in  a  fright. 
Demosthenes  — 

Where  are  ye  going  ?     Where  are  ye  running  ?     Stop ! 

Stand  firm,  my  noble,  valiant  sausage  seller ! 

Never  betray  the  cause.     Your  friends  are  nigh. 

[During  the  last  lines  the  Chorus  of  Knights  are  entering. 

[  To  the  Chorus"}  — 

Cavaliers  and  noble  captains,  now's  the  time!   advance  in 
sight  I 


650  THE   KNIGHTS. 

March  in  order  —  make  the  movement,  and  outflank  hhn  on 

the  right ! 
[To  the  Sausarje  Seller]  — 
There  I  see  them  bustling,  hasting !  —  only  turn  and  make  a 

stand, 
Stop  but  only  for  a  moment,  your  allies  are  hard  at  hand, 
\_The  Chorus,  after  occupying  their  position  in  the  orchestra, 
begin  their  attack  on  Cleon.] 
Chorus  — 

Close  around  him  and  confound  him,  the  confounder  of  us  all. 
Pelt  and  pummel  him  and  maul  him ;   rummage,  ransack, 

overhaul  him. 
Overbear  him  and  out-baAvl  him;  bear  Mm  down  and  bring 

him  under. 
Bellow,  like  a  burst  of  thunder,  robber !    harpy  !    sink  of 

plunder ! 
Eogue  and  villain  !    rogue  and  cheat !    rogue  and  villain  I 

repeat ! 
Of  tener  than  I  can  repeat  it,  has  the  rogue  and  villain  cheated. 
Close  around  him  left  and  right ;  spit  upon  him,  spurn  and 

smite : 
Spit  upon  him  as  you  see ;  spurn  and  spit  at  him  like  me. 
Cleon  — 

Yes  !  assault,  insult,  abuse  me !  this  is  the  return  I  find 
For  the  noble  testimony,  the  memorial  I  designed : 
Meaning  to  propose  proposals  for  a  monument  of  stone. 
On  the  which  your  late  achievements  should  be  carved  and 

neatly  done. 
Chorus — 

Out,  away  with  him!  the  slave!  the  pompous,  empty,  fawning 

knave ! 
Pelt  him  here  and  bang  him  there ;  and  here  and  there  and 

everywhere. 
Cleon  — 

Save  me,  neighbors  !  oh,  the  monsters  !    0  my  side,  my  back, 

my  breast ! 
Chorus  — 

"What !  you're  forced  to  call  for  help  ?  you  overbearing,  brutal 

pest! 
Sausage  Seller  [turning  back  towards  Cleox]  — 

I'll  astound  you  with  my  noise,  with  my  bawling  looks  and 

voice. 
Chorus  — 

If  in  bawling  you  surpass  him,  you'll  achieve  a  victor's  crown ; 
If  again  you  overmatch  him  in  impudence,  the  day's  your  own. 


THE   KNKillTS.  651 

Cleon  — 

I  denounce  this  traitor  here  for  sailing  on  clandestine  trips, 
With  supplies  of  tripe  and  stuffing  to  careen  the  Spartan 
ships. 
Sausage  Seller  — 

I  denounce  then  and  accuse  him  for  a  greater  worse  abuse : 
That  he  steers  his  empty  paunch  and  anchors  at  the  public 

board ; 
Running  in  without  a  lading  to  return  completely  stored ! 
Chorus  — 

Yes  !  and  smuggles  out  moreover  loaves  and  luncheons  not  a 

few, 
More  than  ever  Pericles,  in  all  his  pride,  presumed  to  do. 
Cleon  [_in  a  thundering  tone]  — 

Dogs  and  villains,  you  shall  die ! 
Sausage  Seller  [in  a  still  louder  tone']  — 

Ay  !     I  can  scream  ten  times  as  high. 
Cleon  — 

I'll  overbear  ye  and  out-bawl  ye. 
Sausage  Seller  — 

But  I'll  out-scream  ye  and  out-squall  ye. 
Cleon  — 

What !  do  you  venture  to  invade 
My  proper  calling  and  my  trade  ? 
Chorus  to  Cleon  — 

Even  in  your  tender  years. 
And  your  early  disposition, 
You  betrayed  an  inward  sense 
Of  the  conscious  impudence 
Which  constitutes  a  politician. 
Hence  you  squeeze  and  drain  alone  the  rich  milch  kine  of 

our  allies ; 
Whilst  the  son  of  Hippodamus  licks  his  lips  with  longing 
eyes. 
But  now  with  eager  rapture  we  behold 
A  mighty  miscreant  of  baser  mold ! 
A  more  consummate  ruffian  ! 
An  energetic,  ardent  ragamuffin  ! 
Behold  him  there !  —  He  stands  before  your  eyes 
To  bear  you  down,  with  a  superior  frown, 

A  fiercer  stare. 
And  more  incessant  and  exhaustless  lies. 
[To  the  Sausage  Seller'}  — 

Now  then  do  you  that  boast  a  birth  from  whence  you  might 
inherit, 


652  THE  KNIGHTS. 

And  from  your  breeding  have  derived  a  manhood  and  a  spirit 
Unbroken  by  the  rules  of  art,  untamed  by  education, 
Show  forth  the  native  impudence  and  vigor  of  the  nation  ! 
Sausage  Seller  — 

AVell;    if  you  like   then,  I'll  describe  the  nature   of    him 

clearly, 
The  kind  of  rogue  I've  known  him  for. 

Cleon My  friend,  you're  somewhat  early. 

First  give  me  leave  to  speak. 
Sausage  Seller—  I  won't,  by  Jove !  Ay,  you  may  bellow ! 

I'll  make  you  know  before  I  go  that  I'm  the  baser  fellow. 
Chorus  — 

Ay  !  stand  to  that !  Stick  to  the  point ;  and  for  a  further 

glory. 
Say  that  your  family  were  base  time  out  of  mind  before  ye. 
Cleon  — 

Let  me  speak  first. 
Sausage  Seller—  I  won't. 

Cleon  —  You  shall,  by  Jove ! 

Sausage  Seller  —  I  won't,  by  Jove,  though ! 

Cleon  — 

By  Jupiter,  I  shall  burst  with  rage ! 
Sausage  Seller—  No  matter,  I'll  prevent  you. 

Chorus  — 

No,  don't  prevent,  for  Heaven's  sake  !  don't  hinder  him  from 
bursting. 
Cleon  — 

I'll  have  ye  pilloried  in  a  trice. 
Sausage  Seller  — 

I'll  have  you  tried  for  cowardice. 
Cleon  — 

I'll  tan  your  hide  to  cover  seats. 
Sausage  Seller  — 

Yours  .  hall  be  made  a  purse  for  cheats 
The  luckiest  skin  that  could  be  found. 
Cleon  — 

Dog,  I'll  pin  you  to  the  ground 
With  ten  thousand  tenter-hooks. 
Sausage  Seller  — 

I'll  prepare  you  for  the  cooks. 
Neatly  prepared,  with  skewers  and  lard. 
Cleon  — 

I'll  pluck  your  eyebrows  off,  I  wilL 
Sausage  Seller  — 

I'll  cut  your  collops  out,  I  will. 


THE  KNIGHTS.  653 

[-4  scuffle  ensues  between  the  two  rivals,  in  which  the  Sausage 
Seller  has  the  best  of  it. 
Cleon  {^released  and  recovering  himself'\  — 

May  I  never  eat  a.  slice  at  any  public  sacrifice, 

If  your  effrontery  and  pretense  shall  daunt  my  steadfast  im- 
pudence. 
Sausage  Seller  [to  the  Chorus]  — 

Oh,  there  were  many  pretty  tricks  I  practiced  as  a  child  ; 

Haunting  about  the  butchers'  shops,  the  weather  being  mild, 

"  See,  boys,"  says  I,  "  the  swallow  there  !     Why,  summer's 
come,  I  say." 

And  when  they  turned  to  gape  and  stare,  I  snatched  a  steak 
away. 
Chorus  — 

A  clever  lad  you  must  have  been,  you  managed  matters  rarely. 

To  steal  at  such  an  early  age,  so  seasonable  and  fairly  ! 
Sausage  Seller  — 

But  if  by  chance  they  spied  it,  I  contrived  to  hide  it  handily. 

Clapping  it  in  between  my  hams,  tight  and  close  and  even. 

Calling  on  all  the  powers  above  and  all  the  gods  in  heaven ; 

And  there  I  stood  and  made  it  good  with  staring  and  for- 
swearing ; 

So  that  a  statesman  wise  and  good,  a  ruler  shrewd  and  witty, 

Was  heard  to  say,  *'  That  boy  one  day  will  surely  rule  the 
city." 
Chorus  — 

'Twas  fairly  guessed,  by  the  true  test,  by  your  address  and 
daring. 

First  in  stealing,  then  concealing,  and  again  in  swearing. 
Cleon  — 

I'll  settle  ye !  yes,  both  of  ye !     The  storm  of  elocution 

Is  rising  here  within  my  breast,  to  drive  ye  to  confusion. 

And  with  a  wild  commotion  overwhelm  the  land  and  ocean, 
Sausage  Seller  — 

But  I'll  denoiince  ye 

And  I'll  trounce  ye. 
Cleo7i  — 

Go  for  a  paltry  vulgar  slave. 
Sausage  Seller  — 

Get  out  for  a  designing  slave. 
Chorus — 

Give  him  back  the  cuff  you  got  i 
Cleon  — 

Murder !     Help !     A  plot !     A  plot  t 

I'm  assaulted  and  beset ! 


654  THE  KNIGHTS. 

Chorus  — 

Strike  him  harder !  harder  yet ! 

Pelt  him  —  Eap  him  ! 

Slash  him  —  Slap  him 

Across  the  chops  there,  with  a  wipe 

Of  your  entrails  and  your  tripe. 

Keep  him  down.     The  day's  your  own. 

0  cleverest  of  human  kind !  the  stoutest  and  the  boldest, 

The   savior   of   the  state  and  us,  the  friends  that  thou  be- 
holdest ; 

No  words  can  speak  our  gratitude ;  all  praise  appears  too  little. 

You've  fairly  done  the  rascal  up;  you've  nicked  him  to  a 
tittle. 
Cleon  — 

Now  I'll  set  off  this  instant  to  the  Senate, 

To  inform  them  of  your  conspiracies  and  treasons. 

By  Hercules,  I'll  have  ye  crucified  !  [Exit  Cleon. 

Chorus  [to  the  Sausage  Seller]  — 

Rouse  up  your  powers !     If  ever  in  your  youth 

You  swindled  and  forswore  as  you  profess, 

The  time  is  come  to  show  it.     Now  this  instant 

He's  hurrying  headlong  to  the  senate  house 

To  accuse  us  all,  to  storm  and  rage  and  rave. 
Sausage  Seller  — 

Well,  I'll  be  off. 
Chorus  —  Make  haste. 

Sausage  Seller  —  Why,  so  I  do.  [Exit. 

Chorus  — 

Show  blood  and  game.     Drive  at  him  and  denounce  him ! 

Dash  at  his  comb,  his  coxcomb;  cuff  it  soundly  ! 

Peck,  scratch  and  tear,  conculcate,  clapper,  claw ! 

And  then  return  in  glory  to  your  friends. 

[Eeentrance  of  the  Sausage  Seller. 

0  best  of  men!  thou  tightest,  heartiest  fellow! 
Say  what  was  the  result  of  your  attempt. 

Sausage  Seller  — 

Ay,  ay  —  it's  well  worth  hearing,  I  can  tell  ye ; 

1  followed  after  him  to  the  senate  house ; 
And  there  was  he  roaring  his  biggest  words 
To  crush  the  cavaliers,  calling  them  traitors, 
Conspirators  —  what  not  ?     There  sat  the  Senate, 
With  their  arms  folded  and  their  eyebrows  bent, 
Like  persons  utterly  humbugged  and  bamboozled. 
Seeing  the  state  of  things,  I  paused  awhile, 
Praying  in  secret  with  an  under  voice :  — 


THE  KNIGHTS.  655 

"  Ye  influential,  impudeutial  Powers 

Of  sauciness  and  jabber,  slang  and  jaw! 

Ye  spirits  of  the  market  place  and  street, 

Where  I  was  reared  and  bred — befriend  me  now! 

Grant  me  a  voluble  utterance  and  a  vast, 

Unbounded  voice,  and  steadfast  impudence  I  " 

Then  burst  I  through  the  crowd  and  bustled  up, 

And  bolted  in  at  the  wicket,  and  bawled  out :  — 

"  Xews  !  news  !     I've  brought  you  news  !  tlie  best  of  news ! 

Yes,  senators,  since  first  the  war  began, 

There  never  has  been  known,  till  now  —  this  morning, 

Such  a  haul  of  pilchards."     Then  they  smiled,  and  seemed 

All  tranquilized  and  placid  at  the  prospect 

Of  pilchards  being  likely  to  be  cheap. 

I  then  proceeded  and  proposed  a  vote 

To  meet  the  emergence  secretly  and  suddenly : 

To  seize  at  once  the  trays  of  all  the  workmen. 

And  go  with  them  to  market  to  buy  pilchards 

Before  the  price  was  raised.     Immediately 

They  applauded,  and  sat  gaping  all  together, 

Attentive  and  admiring.     He  perceived  it ; 

And  framed  a  motion  suited,  as  he  thought. 

To  the  temper  of  the  assembl5^     "  I  move,"  says  he, 

"  That,  on  occasion  of  this  happy  news. 

We  should  proclaim  a  general  thanksgiving. 

With  a  festival  moreover,  and  a  sacrifice 

Of  a  hundred  head  of  oxen  to  the  goddess." 

Then,  seeing  he  meant  to  drive  me  to  the  wall 

With  his  hundred  oxen,  I  overbid  him  at  once, 

And  said,  "  Two  hundred ! "  and  proposed  a  vow 

"  For  a  thousand  goats  to  be  offered  to  Diana, 

Whenever  sprats  should  fall  to  forty  a  penny." 

With  that  the  Senate  smiled  on  me  again, 

And  he  grew  stupefied  and  lost  and  stammering ; 

And,  attempting  to  interrupt  the  current  business^ 

Was  called  to  order  and  silence,  and  put  down. 


lEnter  Cleox.] 
Cleon  — 

May  I  perish  and  rot,  but  I'll  consume  and  ruin  ye ; 

I'll  leave  no  trick,  no  scheme  untried,  to  do  it. 
Sausage  Seller  — 

It  makes  me  laugh,  it  amuses  one  to  see  him 

Bluster  and  storm !     I  whistle  and  snap  my  fingers. 


656  THE  KNIGHTS. 

Cleon  — 

You  sha'n't  insult  me,  as  you  did  before  the  Senate. 

Come,  come  before  the  Assembly. 
Sausage  Seller  [coolly  and  dryly']  — 

Ay,  yes ;  why  not  ? 

With  all  my  heart !    Let's  go  there.    What  should  hinder  us  ? 

The  scene  is  supposed  to  be  in  front  of  Demus'  house. 

Cleon  — 

My  dear,  good  Demus,  do  step  out  a  moment ! 

Sausage  Seller  — 

My  dearest  little  Demus,  do  step  out ! 

Demtis  — 

Who's  there  ?     Keep  off !     What  a  racket  you  are  making ! 

Bawling  and  caterwauling  about  the  door, 

To  affront  the  house  and  scandalize  the  neighbors. 

Cleon  — 

Come  out ;  do  you  see  yourself  how  I'm  insulted  ? 

Demus  — 

0  my  poor  Paphlagonian !     What's  the  matter  ? 
Who  has  insulted  you  ? 

Cleon  —  I'm  waylaid  and  beaten, 

By  that  rogue  there,  and  the  rakehelly  young  fellows, 
All  for  your  sake. 

Demus —  How  so? 

Cleon  —  Because  I  love  you. 

And  court  you,  and  wait  on  you  to  win  your  favor. 

Dermis  — 

And  you  there,  sirrah !     Tell  me  what  are  you  ? 

Sausage  Seller  [very  rapidly  and  eagerly]  — 

A  lover  of  yours  and  a  rival  of  his,  this  long  time, 

That  have  wished  to  oblige  ye  and  serve  ye  in  every  way. 

And  many  there  are  besides,  good  gentlefolks. 

That  adore  ye,  and  wish  to  pay  their  court  to  ye, 

But  he  contrives  to  baffle  and  drive  them  off. 

In  short,  you're  like  the  silly,  spendthrift  heirs. 

That  keep  away  from  civil,  well-bred  company 

To  pass  their  time  with  grooms  and  low  companions, 

Cobblers  and  curriers,  tanners,  and  such  like. 

Cleon  — 

Well,  Demus,  call  an  assembly  then  directly 
To  decide  between  us  which  is  your  best  friend ; 
And  when  you've  settled  it,  fix  and  keep  to  him. 

The  scene  changes  and  discovers  the  Pnyx  with  Cleox  on  the 
hema  in  an  oratorical  attitude. 


THE  KNIGHTS.  657 

Gleon  — 

To  Minerva  the  sovereign  goddess  I  call, 

Our  guide  and  defender,  the  hope  of  us  all ; 

With  a  prayer  and  a  vow,  —  that  even  as  now  — 

If  I'm  truly  your  friend,  unto  my  life's  end, 

I  may  dine  in  the  hall,  doing  nothing  at  all ! 

But  if  I  despise  you,  or  ever  advise  you 

Against  what  is  best  for  your  comfort  and  rest ; 

Or  neglect  to  attend  you,  defend  you,  befriend  you, 

—  May  I  perish  and  pine;  may  this  carcass  of  mine 

Be  withered  and  dried,  and  curried  beside ; 

And  straps  for  your  harness  cut  out  from  the  hide. 
Sausage  Seller  — 

Then,  Demus — if  I  tell  a  Avord  of  a  lie. 

If  any  man  more  can  dote  and  adore. 

With  so  tender  a  care,  I  make  it  my  prayer, 

My  prayer  and  my  wish  —  to  be  stewed  in  a  dish; 

To  be  sliced  and  slashed,  minced  and  hashed, 

And  the  offal  remains  that  are  left  by  the  cook. 

Dragged  out  to  tke  grave  with  my  own  flesh  hook. 
Cleon  — 

0  Uemus.     Has  any  man  shown  such  a  zeal. 

Such  a  passion  as  I  for  the  general  weal  ? 

Eacking  and  screwing  offenders  to  ruin; 

With  torture  and  threats  extorting  your  debts. 
Sausage  Seller  — 

All  this  I  can  do,  and  more  handily  too, 

With  ease  and  dispatch ;  I  can  pilfer  and  snatch, 

And  supply  you  with  loaves  from  another  man's  batch,  — 

But  now  to  detect  his  saucy  neglect  — 

He  leaves  you  to  rest  on  a  seat  of  the  rock 

Naked  and  bare,  without  comfort  or  care. 

Whilst  I  —  Look  ye  there  !  —  have  quilted  and  wadded 

And  tufted  and  padded  this  cushion  so  neat 

To  serve  for  your  seat !     Rise  noAV,  let  me  slip 

It  there  under  your  hip,  that,  on  board  of  the  ship, 

With  the  toil  of  the  oar,  was  blistered  and  sore, 

Enduring  the  burden  and  heat  of  the  day 

At  the  battle  of  Salamis  working  away. 
Demus  — 

Wlience  was  it  you  came  ?     Oh,  tell  me  your  name  — 

Your  name  and  your  birth ;  for  your  kindness  and  worth 

Bespeak  you  indeed  of  a  patriot  breed ; 

Of  the  race  of  Harmodius  sure  you  must  be, 

Bo  popular,  gracious,  and  friendly  to  me. 
12 


658  THE  KNIGHTS. 

Cleon  — 

Can  he  win  you  with  ease  with  such  trifles  as  these  ? 

Sausage  Seller  — 

With  easier  trifles  you  manage  to  please. 

Cleon  — 

This  is  horrible  quite,  and  his  slander  and  spite 
Has  no  motive  in  view  but  my  friendship  for  yoU;, 
My  zeal  — 

Demus  — 

There,  have  done  with  your  slang  and  your  stuff, 
You've  cheated  and  choused  and  cajoled  me  enough. 

Sausar/e  Seller  — 

My  dear  little  Demus !  you'll  find  it  is  true, 
He  behaves  like  a  Avretch  and  a  villain  to  you; 
He  haunts  your  gardens  and  there  he  plies, 
Cropping  the  sprouts  of  the  young  supplies, 
Munching  and  crunching  enormous  rations 
Of  public  sales  and  confiscations. 

The  struggle  between  the  rivals  now  begins  in  good  ear- 
nest. It  is  a  contest  of  presents  to  Demus,  chiefly  of  a  culinary 
character,  and  that  everlasting  dish,  the  affair  at  Pylos,  is 
again  served  up  to  the  cantankerous  old  man,  whom  the  poet 
seems  determined  to  disgust  with  the  only  exploit  which 
Cleon  ever  accomplished.  The  Sausage  Seller  has  the  advan- 
tage in  presents  for  some  time,  until  he  is  alarmed  by  learn- 
ing that  Cleon  has  got  a  fine  dish  of  hare  for  Demus.  He  is 
disconcerted  at  first,  and  then  has  recourse  to  a  stratagem. 
"  Some  ambassadors  came  this  way  to  me,"  he  says,  "  and  their 
purses  seem  well  filled.''^  "Where  are  they  ?"  exclaims  Cleon 
eagerly,  turning  round.  The  hare  flesh  is  immediately  in  the 
hands  of  his  rival,  who  presents  the  dainty  in  his  own  name 
to  Demus.  Cleon  is  naturally  indignant.  "I  had  all  the 
trouble  of  catching  the  hare,"  he  cries.  "  And  I  had  all  the 
trouble  of  dressing  it,"  retorts  the  Sausage  Seller.  "  Fools," 
says  the  practical  Demus,  "  I  care  not  who  caught  it,  or  who 
dressed  it ;  all  I  regard  is  the  hand  which  served  it  up  at 
table."  Cleon  loses  ground  more  and  more.  His  rival  pro- 
poses a  new  test  of  affection.  "  Let  our  chests  be  searched," 
says  he.  "It  will  then  be  seen  who  is  the  better  man  to 
Demus  and  his  stomach."  This  is  done,  and  the  chest  of  the 
new  candidate  is  found  empty.  "  Because,"  says  he,  "  I  have 
piven   dear  little  Demus   everything."      In    Cleon's    there   is 


THE  KNIGHTS.  659 

abundance  of  all  good  things,  and  a  tempting  cheese  cake 
particularly  excites  Demus'  surprise.  "  The  rogue  I "  he 
cries,  "to  conceal  such  a  prodigious  cheese  cake  as  this,  and 
to  have  cut  me  off  a  mere  morsel  of  it ;  and  that,  too,  after  I 
had  made  him  a  present  of  a  crown  and  many  other  things 
beside."  Cleon  has  to  take  off  the  crown  (or  garland)  and 
place  it  on  the  head  of  his  enemy.  The  Sausage  Seller,  who 
has  now  adopted  the  name  of  Agoracritus,  is  no  sooner  in 
power  than  he  feeds  up  Demus  and  treats  him  to  such  a  regi- 
men that  the  old  man  becomes  strong  and  young  again.  He 
is  once  more  the  manly,  splendid  fellow  he  was  in  the  days  of 
Marathon  and  Salamis.  Of  course  all  this  has  reference  to 
the  military  and  political  events  of  the  time. 

Agoracritus  {the  Sausage  Seller)  and  Chorus. 

Chorus  — 

0  thou,  the  protector  and  hope  of  the  state, 

Of  the  isles  and  allies  of  the  city,  relate 

"S^Tiat  happy  event  do  you  call  us  to  greet, 

With  bonfire  and  sacrifice  filling  the  street  ? 
Agoracritus  — 

Old  Demus  within  has  molted  his  skin. 

I've  cooked  him  and  stewed  him  to  render  him  stronger, 

Many  years  younger,  and  shabby  no  longer. 
Chorus  — 

0  what  a  change  !     How  sudden  and  strange  ! 

But  where  is  he  now  ? 
Agoracritus  —  On  the  citadel's  brow, 

In  the  lofty  old  town  of  immortal  renown. 

With  the  noble  Ionian  violet  crown. 
Chorus  — 

What  was  his  vesture,  his  figure  and  gesture  ? 

How  did  you  leave  him,  and  how  does  he  look  ? 
Agoracritus  — 

Joyous  and  bold,  as  when  feasting  of  old 

When  his  battles  were  ended,  triumphant  and  splendid, 

With  Miltiades  sitting  carousing  at  rest, 

Or  good  Aristides,  his  favorite  guest. 

You  shall  see  him  here  straight ;  for  the  citadel  gate 

Is  unbarred ;  and  the  hinges  —  you  hear  how  they  grate  ? 
TJie  scene  changes  to  a  view  of  the  PropylcBum. 

Give  a  shout  for  the  sight  of  the  rocky  old  height ! 

And  the  worthy  old  wight  that  inhabits  within. 


660  THE  KNIGHTS. 

Chorus  — 

That  glorious  old  hill !  preeminent  still 
For  splendor  of  empire  and  honor  and  worth ! 
Exhibit  him  here  for  the  Greeks  to  revere, 
Their  patron  and  master,  the  monarch  of  earth ! 

Damns  comes  forward  in  his  splendid  old-fashioned  attire. 
The  features  of  liis  mask  are  changed  to  those  of  youth,  and  he 
has  throughout  the  scene  the  characteristics  that,  in  the  opinion 
of  the  Athenians,  should  mark  youth,  warmth,  eagerness,  with 
some  little  bashfulness  and  embarrassment. 

Demus  — 

My  dearest  Agoracritiis,  come  here  — 

I'm  so  obliged  to  yon  for  your  cookery  ! 

I  feel  an  altered  man,  you've  quite  transformed  me. 
Agoracritiis  — 

What !  I  ?     That's  nothing.     If  you  did  but  know 

The  state  you  were  in  before,  you'd  worship  me. 
Demus  — 

What  was  I  doing  ?    How  did  I  behave  ? 

Do  tell  me  —  inform  against  me  — let  me  know. 
Agoracritus  — 

Why  first  then,  if  an  orator  in  the  Assembly 

Began  with  saying,  "  Demus,  I'm  your  friend, 

Your  faithful,  zealous  friend,  your  only  friend," 

You  used  to  chuckle,  and  smirk,  and  hold  your  head  up. 
Demus  — 

No,  sure ! 
Agoracritus  — 

So  he  gained  his  end,  and  bilked  and  choused  you. 
Demus  — 

But  did  I  not  perceive  ?    Was  I  not  told  ? 
Agoracritus  — 

By  Jove,  and  you  wore  those  ears  of  yours  continually 

Wide  open  or  close  shut,  like  an  umbrella. 
Demus — 

Is  it  possible  ?     Was  I  indeed  so  mere  a  driveler 

In  my  old  age,  so  superannuated  ? 
Agoracritus  — 

Moreover,  if  a  couple  of  orators 

Were  pleading  in  your  presence,  one  proposing 

To  equip  a  fleet,  his  rival  arguing 

To  get  the  same  supplies  distributed 

To  the  jurymen,  the  patron  of  the  juries 

Carried  the  day  —  But  why  do  you  hang  your  head  so  ? 


THE  KNIGHTS.  661 

Demus  — 

I  feel  ashamed  of  myself  and  my  follies. 
Agoracritus  — 

'Twas  not  your  fault  —  don't  think  of  it.     Your  advisers 

Were  most  to  blame.     But,  for  the  future,  tell  me. 

Now  answer  me,  in  other  respects  how  do  you  mean. 

To  manage  your  affairs. 
Demus —  Why,  first  of  all, 

I'll  have  the  arrears  of  seamen's  Avages  paid 

To  a  penny  the  instant  they  return  to  port. 
Agoracritus  — 

There's  many  a  worn-out  salt  will  bless  and  thank  ye. 
Demus  — 

Moreover,  no  man  that  has  been  enrolled 

Upon  the  list  for  military  service 

Shall  have  his  name  erased  for  fear  or  favor. 
Agoracritus  — 

That  gives  a  bang  to  Cleonymus'  buckler. 
Demus  — 

I'll  not  permit  those  fellows  without  beards 

To  harangue  in  our  assemblies,  boys  or  men. 
Agoracritus  — 

It's  your  own  fault;  in  part  you've  helped  to  spoil  'em. 

But  what  do  you  mean  to  do  with  them  for  the  future  ? 
Demus  — 

I  shall  send  them  into  the  country,  all  the  pack  of  them, 

To  learn  to  hunt,  and  leave  off  making  laws. 
Agoracritus  — 

And  what  will  you  say  if  I  give  joii  a  glorious  peace, 

A  lusty,  strapping  truce  of  thirty  years  ? 

Come  forward  here,  my  lass,  and  show  yourself. 
Demus  — 

By  Jove,  what  a  face  and  figure !     I  should  like 

To  ratify  and  conclude  incontinently. 

Where  did  you  find  her  ? 
Agoracritus —  Oh,  the  Paphlagonian, 

Of  course,  had  huddled  her  out  of  sight,  within  there. 

But  now  you've  got  her,  take  her  back  v/itli  you 

Into  the  country. 
Demus —  But  the  Paphlagonian, 

What  shall  we  do  to  punish  him  ?     What  d'ye  think  ? 
Agoracritus  — 

Oh,  no  great  matter.     He  shall  have  my  trade. 

With  an  exclusive  sausage-selling  patent 

To  traffic  openly  at  the  city  gates, 


662  PARABASIS. 

And  garble  his  wares  with  dogs'  and  asses'  flesh, 
With  a  privilege,  moreover,  to  get  drunk. 
And  bully  among  the  strumpets  of  the  suburbs 
And  the  ragamuffin  waiters  at  the  baths. 
Demus  — 

That's  well  imagined ;  it  precisely  suits  him ; 

His  natural  bent,  it  seems,  his  proper  element 

To  squabble  with  poor  trulls  and  low  rapscallions. 

As  for  yourself,  I  give  you  an  invitation 

To  dine  with  me  in  the  hall.     You'll  fill  the  seat 

Which  that  unhappy  villain  held  before. 

Take  this  new  robe !     Wear  it  and  follow  me ! 

And  you,  the  rest  of  you,  conduct  that  fellow 
To  his  future  home  and  place  of  occupation. 
The  gate  of  the  city,  where  the  allies  and  foreigners 
That  he  maltreated  may  be  sure  to  find  him. 

\_Exeicni. 


PARABASIS. 

(From the  "Knights"  of  Aristophanes.) 

If  a  veteran  author  had  wished  to  engage 

Our  assistance  to-day,  for  a  speech  from  the  stage, 

We  scarce  should  have  granted  so  bold  a  request ; 

But  this  author  of  ours,  as  the  bravest  and  best. 

Deserves  an  indulgence  denied  to  the  rest. 

For  the  courage  and  vigor,  the  scorn  and  the  hate, 

With  which  he  encounters  the  pests  of  the  state  j 

A  thoroughbred  seaman,  intrepid  and  warm. 

Steering  outright,  in  the  face  of  the  storm. 

But  now  for  the  gentle  reproaches  he  bore 
On  the  part  of  his  friends,  for  refraining  before 
To  embrace  the  profession,  embarking  for  life 
In  theatrical  storms  and  poetical  strife ; 
He  begs  us  to  state,  that  for  reasons  of  weight, 
He  has  lingered  so  long,  and  determined  so  late. 
For  he  deemed  the  achievements  of  comedy  hard. 
The  boldest  attempt  of  a  desperate  bard ! 
The  Muse  he  perceived  was  capricious  and  coy,  — 
Though  many  were  courting  her,  few  could  enjoy. 
And  he  saw  without  reason,  from  season  to  season. 
Your  humor  would  shift,  and  turn  poets  adrift. 
Requiting  old  friends  w^ith  unkindness  and  treaso 


PARABASIS.  663 

Discarded  in  scorn  as  exhausted  and  worn. 

Seeing  Magues's  fate,  who  was  reckoned  of  late, 
For  the  conduct  of  comedy,  captain  and  head ; 
That  so  oft  on  the  stage,  in  the  flower  of  his  age, 
Had  defeated  the  Chorus  his  rivals  had  led ; 
With  his  soiinds  of  all  sort,  that  were  uttered  in  sport, 
With  whims  and  vagaries  unheard  of  before. 
With  feathers  and  wings,  and  a  thousand  gay  things. 
That  in  frolicsome  fancies  his  Choruses  wore  — 
When  his  humor  was  spent,  did  your  temper  relent, 
To  requite  the  delight  that  he  gave  you  before  ? 
We  beheld  him  displaced,  and  expelled,  and  disgraced, 
When  his  hair  and  his  wit  were  grown  aged  and  hoar. 

Then  he  saw,  for  a  sample,  the  dismal  example 
Of  noble  Cratinus  so  splendid  and  ample, 
Full  of  spirit  and  blood,  and  enlarged  like  a  flood, 
Whose  copious  current  tore  down,  with  its  torrent. 
Oaks,  ashes,  and  yew,  with  the  ground  where  they  grew, 
And  his  rivals  to  boot,  wrenched  up  by  the  root, 
And  his  personal  foes,  who  presume  to  oppose. 
All  drowned  and  abolished,  dispersed  and  demolished, 
And  drifted  headlong,  with  a  deluge  of  song. 
And  his  airs  and  his  tunes,  and  his  songs  and  lampoons, 
Were  recited  and  sung,  by  the  old  and  the  young  — 
At  feasts  and  carousals  what  poet  but  he  ? 
And  "  The  Fair  Amphibribe,"  and  "  The  Sycophant  Tree," 
"  Masters  and  masons  and  builders  of  verse  !  "  — 
Those  were  the  tunes  that  all  tongues  could  rehearse ; 
But  since  in  decay,  you  have  cast  him  away, 
Stript  of  his  stops  and  his  musical  strings. 
Battered  and  shattered,  a  broken  old  instrument. 
Shoved  out  of  sight,  among  rubbishy  things. 
His  garlands  are  faded,  and  what  he  deems  worst, 
His  tongue  and  his  palate  are  parching  with  thirst ; 
And  now  you  may  meet  him  alone  in  the  street. 
Wearied  and  Avorn,  tattered  and  torn. 
All  decayed  and  forlorn,  in  his  person  and  dress ; 
Whom  his  former  success  should  exempt  from  distress, 
With  subsistence  at  large,  at  the  general  charge. 
And  a  seat  with  the  great,  at  the  table  of  state. 
There  to  feast  every  day  and  preside  at  the  play, 
In  splendid  apparel,  triumphant  and  gay. 

Seeing  Crates  the  next,  always  teased  and  perplext, 
With  your  tyrannous  temper,  tormented  and  vext; 
That  with  taste  and  good  sense,  without  waste  or  expense, 


664  PLATO   AND   BACON. 

From  his  snug  little  hoard  provided  your  board 

With  a  delicate  treat,  economic  and  neat. 

Thus  hitting  or  missing,  with  crowns  or  with  hissing, 

Year  after  year  he  pursued  his  career. 

For  better  or  worse,  till  he  finished  his  course. 

These  precedents  held  him  in  long  hesitation ; 

He  replied  to  his  friends,  with  a  just  observation, 

"  That  seaman  in  regular  order  is  bred 

To  the  oar,  to  the  helm,  —  and  to  look  out  ahead; 

Till  diligent  practice  has  fixed  in  his  mind 

The  signs  of  the  weather,  and  changes  of  wind. 

And  when  every  point  of  the  service  is  known. 

Undertakes  the  command  of  a  ship  of  his  own." 

For  reasons  like  these. 

If  your  judgment  agrees 

That  he  did  not  embark, 

Like  an  ignorant  spark, 

Or  a  troublesome  lout, 

To  puzzle  and  bother,  and  blunder  about, 

Give  him  a  shout. 

At  his  first  setting  out ! 

And  all  pull  away 

With  a  hearty  huzza 

For  success  to  the  play  ! 

Send  him  away. 

Smiling  and  gay. 

Shining  and  florid. 

With  his  bald  forehead ! 


PLATO   AND   BACON. 

By  lord  ma  caul  ay. 

[Thomas  Babington  Macaulay  :  An  English  liistorian  and  essayist ;  bom 
October  25,  1800;  son  of  a  noted  philanthropist  and  a  Quaker  lady;  died  at 
London,  December  28,  1859.  He  was  educated  at  Trinity  College,  Cambridge, 
and  called  to  the  bar,  but  took  to  writing  for  the  periodicals  and  to  politics ; 
became  famous  for  historical  essays,  was  a  warm  advocate  of  Parliamentary 
Pteform,  and  was  elected  to  Parliament  in  1830.  In  1834  he  was  made  a  member 
of  the  Supreme  I^egislative  Council  for  India,  residing  there  till  1838,  and  making 
the  working  draft  of  the  present  Indian  Penal  Code.  He  was  Secretary  at  "War 
in  1839.  The  first  two  volumes  of  his  "  History  of  England"  were  published  in 
December,  1848.  His  fame  rests  even  more  on  his  historical  essays,  Jiis  unsur- 
passed speeches,  and  his  "  Lays  of  Ancient  Rome."] 


THOMAS   BABINGTON   MACAULAY 


PLATO   AND  BACON.  665 

The  difference  between  the  philosophy  of  Bacon  and  that 
of  his  predecessors  cannot,  we  think,  be  better  illustrated  than 
by  comparing  his  views  on  some  important  subjects  with  those 
of  Plato.  We  select  Plato,  because  we  conceive  that  he  did 
more  than  any  other  person  towards  giving  to  the  minds  of 
speculative  men  that  bent  which  they  retained  till  they  received 
from  Bacon  a  new  impulse  in  a  diametrically  opposite  direction. 

It  is  curious  to  observe  how  differently  these  great  men 
estimated  the  value  of  every  kind  of  knowledge.  Take  arith- 
metic for  example.  Plato,  after  speaking  slightly  of  the  con- 
venience of  being  able  to  reckon  and  compute  in  the  ordinary 
transactions  of  life,  passes  to  what  he  considers  as  a  far  more 
important  advantage.  The  study  of  the  properties  of  numbers, 
he  tells  us,  habituates  the  mind  to  the  contemplation  of  pure 
truth,  and  raises  us  above  the  material  universe.  He  would 
have  his  disciples  apply  themselves  to  this  study,  not  that  they 
may  be  able  to  buy  or  sell,  not  that  they  ma}'^  qualify  them- 
selves to  be  shopkeepers  or  traveling  merchants,  but  that  they 
may  learn  to  withdraw  their  minds  from  the  ever-shifting 
spectacle  of  this  visible  and  tangible  world,  and  to  fix  them  on 
the  immutable  essences  of  things. 

Bacon,  on  the  other  hand,  valued  this  branch  of  knowledge 
only  on  account  of  its  uses  with  reference  to  that  visible  and 
tangible  world  which  Plato  so  much  despised.  He  speaks  with 
scorn  of  the  mystical  arithmetic  of  the  later  Platonists,  and 
laments  the  propensity  of  mankind  to  employ,  on  mere  matters 
of  curiosity,  powers  the  whole  exertion  of  which  is  required 
for  purposes  of  solid  advantage.  He  advises  arithmeticians  to 
leave  these  trifles,  and  to  employ  themselves  in  framing  con- 
venient expressions,  which  may  be  of  use  in  physical  researches. 

The  same  reasons  which  led  Plato  to  recommend  the  study 
of  arithmetic  led  him  to  recommend  also  the  study  of  mathe- 
matics. The  vulgar  crowd  of  geometricians,  he  says,  will  not 
understand  him.  They  have  practice  always  in  view.  Tliey  do 
not  know  that  the  real  use  of  the  science  is  to  lead  men  to  the 
knowledge  of  abstract,  essential,  eternal  truth.  Indeed,  if  we 
are  to  believe  Plutarch,  Plato  carried  this  feeling  so  far  that  he 
considered  geometry  as  degraded  by  being  applied  to  any  pur- 
pose of  vulgar  utility.  Archytas,  it  seems,  had  framed  machines 
of  extraordinary  power  on  mathematical  principles.  Plato  re- 
monstrated with  his  friend,  and  declared  that  this  was  to  degrade 
a  noble  intellectual  exercise  into  a  low  craft,  fit  onh'  for  carpen- 


666  PLATO   AND  BACON. 

ters  and  wheelwrights.  The  oflEice  of  geometry,  he  said,  was  to 
discipline  the  mind,  not  to  minister  to  the  base  wants  of  the 
body.  His  interference  was  successful ;  and  from  that  time, 
according  to  Plutarch,  the  science  of  mechanics  was  considered 
as  unworthy  of  the  attention  of  a  philosopher. 

Archimedes  in  a  later  age  imitated  and  surpassed  Archytas. 
But  even  Archimedes  was  not  free  from  the  prevailing  notion 
that  geometry  was  degraded  by  being  employed  to  produce 
anything  useful.  It  was  with  difficulty  that  he  was  induced  to 
stoop  from  speculation  to  practice.  He  was  half  ashamed  of 
those  inventions  which  were  the  wonder  of  hostile  nations,  and 
always  spoke  of  them  slightingly  as  mere  amusements,  as  trifles 
ill  which  a  mathematician  might  be  suffered  to  relax  his  mind 
after  intense  application  to  the  higher  parts  of  his  science. 

The  opinion  of  Bacon  on  this  subject  was  diametrically 
opposed  to  that  of  the  ancient  philosophers.  He  valued  geome- 
try chiefly,  if  not  solely,  on  account  of  those  uses  which  to 
Plato  appeared  so  base.  And  it  is  remarkabe  that  the  longer 
Bacon  lived  the  stronger  this  feeling  became.  When  in  1605 
he  wrote  the  two  books  on  the  Advancement  of  Learning,  he 
dwelt  on  the  advantages  which  mankind  derived  from  mixed 
mathematics  ;  but  he  at  the  same  time  admitted  that  the  bene- 
ficial effect  produced  by  mathematical  study  on  the  intellect, 
though  a  collateral  advantage,  was  "  no  less  worthy  than  that 
which  was  principal  and  intended."  But  it  is  evident  that  his 
views  underwent  a  change.  When,  near  twenty  years  later,  he 
published  the  "  De  Augmentis,"  which  is  the  Treatise  on  the 
Advancement  of  Learning,  greatly  expanded  and  carefully  cor- 
rected, he  made  important  alterations  in  the  part  which  related 
to  mathematics.  He  condemned  with  severity  the  high  preten- 
sions of  the  mathematicians,  "  delicias  et  fastum  mathemati- 
corum."  Assuming  the  well-being  of  the  human  race  to  be 
the  end  of  knowledge,  he  pronounced  that  mathematical  science 
could  claim  no  higher  rank  than  that  of  an  appendage  or  aux- 
iliary to  other  sciences.  Mathematical  science,  he  says,  is  the 
handmaid  of  natural  philosophy  ;  she  ought  to  demean  herself 
as  such ;  and  he  declares  that  he  cannot  conceive  by  what  ill 
chance  it  has  happened  that  she  presumes  to  claim  precedence 
over  her  mistress.  He  predicts  —  a  prediction  which  would 
have  made  Plato  shudder  —  that  as  more  and  more  discoveries 
are  made  in  physics,  there  will  be  more  and  more  branches  of 
mixed  mathematics.     Of  that  collateral  advantage  the  value  of 


PLATO  AND  BACON.  667 

wliicli,  twenty  years  before,  he  rated  so  highly,  he  says  not  one 
word.  This  omission  cannot  have  been  the  effect  of  mere  inad- 
vertence. His  own  treatise  was  before  him.  From  that  trea- 
tise he  deliberately  expunged  whatever  was  favorable  to  the 
study  of  pure  mathematics,  and  inserted  several  keen  reflections 
on  the  ardent  votaries  of  that  study.  This  fact,  in  our  opinion, 
admits  of  only  one  explanation.  Bacon's  love  of  those  pursuits 
which  directly  tend  to  improve  the  condition  of  mankind,  and 
his  jealousy  of  all  pursuits  merely  curious,  had  grown  upon  him, 
and  had,  it  may  be,  become  immoderate.  He  was  afraid  of 
using  any  expression  which  might  have  the  effect  of  inducing 
any  man  of  talents  to  employ  in  speculations,  useful  only  to 
the  mind  of  the  speculator,  a  single  hour  which  might  be 
employed  in  extending  the  empire  of  man  over  matter.  If 
Bacon  erred  here,  we  must  acknowledge  that  we  greatly  prefer 
his  error  to  the  opposite  error  of  Plato.  We  have  no  patience 
with  a  philosophy  which,  like  those  Roman  matrons  who  swal- 
lowed abortives  in  order  to  preserve  their  shapes,  takes  pains  to 
bo  barren  for  fear  of  being  homely. 

Let  us  pass  to  astronomy.  This  was  one  of  the  sciences 
which  Plato  exhorted  his  disciples  to  learn,  but  for  reasons  far 
removed  from  common  habits  of  thinking.  "  Shall  we  set  down 
astronomy,"  says  Socrates,  "among  the  subjects  of  study?" 
"  I  think  so,"  answers  his  young  friend  Glaucon :  "  to  know 
something  about  the  seasons,  the  months,  and  the  jeM's  is  of 
use  for  military  purposes,  as  well  as  for  agriculture  and  naviga- 
tion." "It  amuses  me,"  says  Socrates,  "to  see  how  afraid  you 
are,  lest  the  common  herd  of  people  should  accuse  you  of  recom- 
mending useless  studies."  He  then  proceeds,  in  that  pure  and 
magnificent  diction  which,  as  Cicero  said,  Jupiter  would  use  if 
Jupiter  spoke  Greek,  to  explain  that  the  use  of  astronomy  is 
not  to  add  to  the  vulgar  comforts  of  life,  but  to  assist  in  rais- 
ing the  mind  to  the  contemplation  of  things  which  are  to  be 
perceived  by  the  pure  intellect  alone.  The  knowledge  of  the 
actual  motions  of  the  heavenly  bodies  Socrates  considers  as  of 
little  value.  The  appearances  which  make  the  sky  beautiful  at 
night  are,  he  tells  us,  like  the  figures  which  a  geometrician 
draws  on  the  sand,  mere  examples,  mere  helps  to  feeble  minds. 
We  must  get  beyond  them  ;  we  must  neglect  them ;  we  must 
attain  to  an  astronomy  which  is  as  independent  of  the  actual 
stars  as  geometrical  truth  is  independent  of  the  lines  of  an  ill- 
drawn  diagram.     This  is,  we  imagine,  very  nearly,  if  not  exactly, 


668  PLATO   AND   BACON. 

the  astronomy  which  Bacon  compared  to  the  ox  of  Prometheus, 
a  sleek,  well-shaped  hide,  stuffed  with  rubbish,  goodly  to  look 
at,  but  containing  nothing  to  eat.  He  complained  that  astron- 
omy had,  to  its  great  injury,  been  separated  from  natural  phi- 
losoph3%  of  which  it  was  one  of  the  noblest  provinces,  and 
annexed  to  the  domain  of  mathematics.  The  world  stood  in 
need,  he  said,  of  a  very  different  astronomy,  of  a  living  astronomy, 
of  an  astronomy  which  should  set  forth  the  nature,  the  motion, 
and  the  influences  of  the  heavenly  bodies,  as  they  really  are. 

On  the  greatest  and  most  useful  of  all  human  inventions,  the 
invention  of  alphabetical  writing,  Plato  did  not  look  with  much 
complacency.  He  seems  to  have  thought  that  the  use  of  letters 
had  operated  on  the  human  mind  as  the  use  of  the  gocart  in 
learning  to  walk,  or  of  corks  in  learning  to  swim,  is  said  to 
operate  on  the  human  body.  It  was  a  supj)ort  which,  in  his 
opinion,  soon  became  indispensable  to  those  who  used  it,  which 
made  vigorous  exertion  first  unnecessary  and  then  impossible. 
The  powers  of  the  intellect  would,  he  conceived,  have  been 
more  fully  developed  without  this  delusive  aid.  Men  would 
have  been  compelled  to  exercise  the  understanding  and  the 
memory,  and,  by  deep  and  assiduous  meditation,  to  make  truth 
thoroughly  their  own.  Now,  on  the  contrary,  much  knowl- 
edge is  traced  on  paper,  but  little  is  engraved  in  the  soul.  A 
man  is  certain  that  he  can  find  information  at  a  moment's 
notice  when  he  wants  it.  He  therefore  suffers  it  to  fade  from 
his  mind.  Such  a  man  cannot  in  strictness  be  said  to  know 
anything.  He  has  the  show  without  the  reality  of  wisdom. 
These  opinions  Plato  has  put  into  the  mouth  of  an  ancient  king 
of  Egypt.  But  it  is  evident  from  the  context  that  they  were 
his  own ;  and  so  they  were  understood  to  be  by  Quinctilian. 
Indeed  they  are  in  perfect  accordance  with  the  whole  Platonic 
system. 

Bacon's  views,  as  may  easily  be  supposed,  were  widely  dif- 
ferent. The  powers  of  the  memory,  he  observes,  without  the 
help  of  writing,  can  do  little  towards  the  advancement  of  any 
useful  science.  He  acknowledges  that  the  memory  may  be  dis- 
ciplined to  such  a  point  as  to  be  able  to  perform  ver}^  extraor- 
dinary feats.  But  on  such  feats  he  sets  little  value.  The 
habits  of  his  mind,  he  tells  us,  are  such  that  he  is  not  disposed 
to  rate  liighly  any  accomplishment,  however  rare,  which  is  of 
no  practical  use  to  mankind.  As  to  these  prodigious  achieve- 
ments of  the  memory,  he  ranks  them  with  the  exhibitions  of 


PLATO   AND     BACON.  669 

ropedancers  and  tumblers.  "These  two  performances,"  he 
says,  "  are  much  of  the  same  sort.  The  one  is  an  abuse  of  the 
powers  of  the  body ;  the  other  is  an  abuse  of  the  powers  of  the 
mind.  Both  may  perhaps  excite  our  wonder;  but  neither  is 
entitled  to  our  respect." 

To  Plato,  the  science  of  medicine  appeared  to  be  of  very 
disputable  advantage.  He  did  not  indeed  object  to  quick  cures 
for  acute  disorders,  or  for  injuries  produced  by  accidents.  But 
the  art  which  resists  the  slow  sap  of  a  chronic  disease,  which 
repairs  frames  enervated  by  lust,  swollen  by  gluttony,  or  inflamed 
by  wine,  which  encourages  sensuality  by  mitigating  the  natural 
punishment  of  the  sensualist,  and  prolongs  existence  when  the 
intellect  has  ceased  to  retain  its  entire  energy,  had  no  share  of 
his  esteem.  A  life  protracted  by  medical  skill  he  pronounced 
to  be  a  long  death.  The  exercise  of  the  art  of  medicine  ought, 
he  said,  to  be  tolerated,  so  far  as  that  art  may  serve  to  cure 
the  occasional  distempers  of  men  whose  constitutions  are  good. 
As  to  those  who  have  bad  constitutions,  let  them  die  ;  and  the 
sooner  the  better.  Such  men  are  unfit  for  war,  for  magistracy, 
for  the  management  of  their  domestic  affairs,  for  severe  study 
and  speculation.  If  they  engage  in  any  vigorous  mental  exer- 
cise, they  are  troubled  with  giddiness  and  fullness  of  the  head, 
all  which  they  lay  to  the  account  of  philosophy.  The  best 
thing  that  can  happen  to  such  wretches  is  to  have  done  with 
life  at  once.  He  quotes  mythical  authority  in  support  of  this 
doctrine  ;  and  reminds  his  disciples  that  the  practice  of  the 
sons  of  ^sculapius,  as  described  by  Homer,  extended  only  to 
the  cure  of  external  injuries. 

Far  different  was  the  philosophy  of  Bacon.  Of  all  the 
sciences,  that  which  he  seems  to  have  regarded  with  the  greatest 
interest  was  the  science  which,  in  Plato's  opinion,  would  not 
be  tolerated  in  a  well-regulated  community.  To  make  men 
perfect  was  no  part  of  Bacon's  plan.  His  humble  aim  was  to 
make  imperfect  men  comfortable.  The  beneficence  of  his  phi- 
losophy resembled  the  beneficence  of  the  common  Father,  whose 
sun  rises  on  the  evil  and  the  good,  whose  rain  descends  for  the 
just  and  the  unjust.  In  Plato's  opinion  man  was  made  for 
philosophy  ;  in  Bacon's  opinion  philosophy  was  made  for  man  ; 
it  was  a  means  to  an  end ;  and  that  end  was  to  increase  the 
pleasures  and  to  mitigate  the  pains  of  millions  who  are  not  and 
cannot  be  philosophers.  That  a  valetudinarian  who  took  great 
pleasure  in  being  wheeled  along  his  terrace,  who  relished  his 


670  PLATO   AND   BACON. 

boiled  chicken  and  his  weak  wine  and  water,  and  who  enjoyed 
a  hearty  laugh  over  the  Queen  of  Navarre's  tales,  should  be 
treated  as  a  caput  lupinum  because  he  could  not  read  the 
Tima3us  without  a  headache,  was  a  notion  which  the  humane 
spirit  of  the  English  school  of  wisdom  altogether  rejected. 
Bacon  would  not  have  thought  it  beneath  the  dignity  of  a  phi- 
losopher to  contrive  an  improved  garden  chair  for  such  a  vale- 
tudinarian, to  devise  some  way  of  rendering  his  medicines  more 
palatable,  to  invest  repasts  which  he  might  enjoy,  and  pillows 
on  which  he  might  sleep  soundly  ;  and  this  though  there  might 
not  be  the  smallest  hope  that  the  mind  of  the  poor  invalid  would 
ever  rise  to  the  contemplation  of  the  ideal  beautiful  and  the 
ideal  good.  As  Plato  had  cited  the  religious  legends  of  Greece 
to  justify  his  contempt  for  the  more  recondite  parts  of  the  art  of 
healing,  Bacon  vindicated  the  dignity  of  that  art  by  apjDcaling  to 
the  example  of  Christ,  and  reminded  men  that  the  great  Physi- 
cian of  the  soul  did  not  disdain  to  be  also  the  physician  of  the 
body. 

When  we  pass  from  the  science  of  medicine  to  that  of  legis- 
lation, we  find  the  same  difference  between  the  systems  of  these 
two  great  men.  Plato,  at  the  commencement  of  the  Dialogue 
on  Laws,  lays  it  down  as  a  fundamental  principle  that  the  end 
of  legislation  is  to  make  men  virtuous.  It  is  unnecessary  to 
point  out  the  extravagant  conclusions  to  which  such  a  propo- 
sition leads.  Bacon  well  knew  to  how  great  an  extent  the 
happiness  of  every  society  must  depend  on  the  virtue  of  its 
members  ;  and  he  also  knew  what  legislators  can  and  what  they 
cannot  do  for  the  purpose  of  promoting  virtue.  The  view  which 
he  has  given  of  the  end  of  legislation,  and  of  the  principal  means 
for  the  attainment  of  that  end,  has  always  seemed  to  us  emi- 
nently happy,  even  among  the  many  happy  passages  of  the  same 
kind  with  which  his  works  abound.  "Finis  et  scopus  quem 
leges  intueri  atque  ad  quem  jussiones  et  sanctiones  suas  dirigere 
debent,  non  alius  est  quam  ut  cives  feliciter  degant.  Id  fiet  si 
pietate  et  religione  recte  instituti,  moribus  honesti,  armis  adver- 
sus  hostes  externos  tuti,  legum  auxilio  adversus  seditiones  et 
privatas  injurias  muniti,  imperio  et  magistratibus  obsequentes, 
copiis  et  opibus  locupletes  et  florentes  fuerint."  The  end  is 
the  well-being  of  the  people.  The  means  are  the  imparting  of 
moral  and  religious  education;  the  providing  of  everything 
necessary  for  defense  against  foreign  enemies ;  the  maintaining 
of  internal  order ;  the  establishing  of  a  judicialf  financial,  and 


PLATO   AND  BACON.  671 

commercial  system,  under  which  wealth  may  be  rapidly  accu- 
mulated and  securely  enjoyed. 

Even  with  respect  to  the  form  in  which  laws  ought  to  be 
drawn,  there  is  a  remarkable  difference  of  opinion  between  the 
Greek  and  the  Englishman.  Plato  thought  a  preamble  essen- 
tial ;  Bacon  thought  it  mischievous.  Each  was  consistent  with 
himself.  Plato,  considering  the  moral  improvement  of  the 
people  as  the  end  of  legislation,  justly  inferred  that  a  law  which 
commanded  and  threatened,  but  which  neither  convinced  the 
reason,  nor  touched  the  heart,  must  be  a  most  imperfect  law. 
He  was  not  content  with  deterring  from  theft  a  man  who  still 
continued  to  be  a  thief  at  heart,  with  restraining  a  son  who 
hated  his  mother  from  beating  his  mother.  The  only  obedi- 
ence on  which  he  set  much  value  was  the  obedience  which  an 
enlightened  understanding  yields  to  reason,  and  which  a  virtu- 
ous disposition  yields  to  precepts  of  virtue.  He  really  seems 
to  have  believed  that,  by  prefixing  to  every  law  an  eloquent 
and  pathetic  exhortation,  he  should,  to  a  great  extent,  render 
penal  enactments  superfluous.  Bacon  entertained  no  such 
romantic  hopes  ;  and  he  well  knew  the  practical  inconveniences 
of  the  course  which  Plato  recommended.  "  Neque  nobis,"  says 
he,  "  prologi  legum  qui  inepti  olim  habiti  sunt,  et  leges  intro- 
ducunt  disputantes  non  jubentes,  utique  placerent,  si  priscos 
mores  ferre  possemus.  .  .  .  Quantum  fieri  potest  prologi  evi- 
tentur,  et  lex  incipiat  a  jussione." 

Each  of  the  great  men  whom  we  have  compared  intended  to 
illustrate  his  system  by  a  philosophical  romance ;  and  each  left 
his  romance  imperfect.  Had  Plato  lived  to  finish  the  "  Critias," 
a  comparison  between  that  noble  fiction  and  the  "New  Atlantis  " 
would  probably  have  furnished  us  with  still  more  striking 
instances  than  any  which  we  have  given.  It  is  amusing  to 
think  with  what  horror  he  would  have  seen  such  an  institution 
as  Solomon's  House  rising  in  his  republic:  with  what  vehe- 
mence he  would  have  ordered  the  brewhouses,  the  perfume 
houses,  and  the  dispensatories  to  be  pulled  down;  and  with 
what  inexorable  rigor  he  would  have  driven  beyond  the  frontier 
all  the  Fellows  of  the  College,  Merchants  of  Light  and  Depre- 
dators, Lamps  and  Pioneers. 

To  sum  up  the  whole,  we  should  say  that  the  aim  of  the 
Platonic  philosophy  was  to  exalt  man  into  a  god.  The  aim  of 
the  Baconian  philosophy  was  to  provide  man  with  what  he 
requires  while  he  continues  to  be  man.     The  aim  of  the  Pla- 


672  PLATO   AND   BACON. 

tonic  philosophy  was  to  raise  us  far  above  vulgar  wants.  The 
aim  of  the  Baconian  philosophy  v/as  to  supply  our  vulgar  wants. 
The  former  aim  was  noble  ;  but  the  latter  was  attainable. 
Plato  drew  a  good  bow ;  but,  like  Acestes  in  Virgil,  he  aimed 
at  the  stars  ;  and  therefore,  though  there  was  no  want  of 
strength  or  skill,  the  shot  was  thrown  away.  His  arrow  was 
indeed  followed  by  a  track  of  dazzling  radiance,  but  it  struck 
•nothing. 

Volans  liqiiidis  iu  mibibus  arsit  arundo 
Signavitque  viam  flammis,  tenuisque  recessit 
Consumta  iu  veutos. 

Bacon  fixed  his  eye  on  a  mark  which  was  placed  on  the 
earth,  and  within  bowshot,  and  hit  it  in  the  white.  The  phi- 
losophy of  Plato  began  in  words  and  ended  in  words,  noble 
v/ords  indeed,  words  such  as  were  to  be  expected  from  the 
finest  of  human  intellects  exercising  boundless  dominion  over 
the  finest  of  human  languages.  The  philosophy  of  Bacon  began 
in  observations  and  ended  in  arts. 

The  boast  of  the  ancient  philosophers  was  that  their  doctrine 
formed  the  minds  of  men  to  a  high  degree  of  wisdom  and  virtue. 
This  was  indeed  the  only  practical  good  which  the  most  cele- 
brated of  those  teachers  even  pretended  to  effect ;  and  undoubt- 
edly, if  they  had  effected  this,  they  would  have  deserved  far 
higher  praise  than  if  they  had  discovered  the  most  salutary 
medicines  or  constructed  the  most  powerful  machines.  But 
the  truth  is  that,  in  those  very  matters  in  which  alone  they  pro- 
fessed to  do  any  good  to  mankind,  in  those  very  matters  for  the 
sake  of  which  they  neglected  all  the  vulgar  interests  of  man- 
kind, they  did  nothing,  or  worse  than  nothing.  They  promised 
what  was  impracticable  ;  they  despised  what  was  practicable  ; 
they  filled  the  world  with  long  words  and  long  beards ;  and 
they  left  it  as  wicked  and  as  ignorant  as  they  found  it. 

An  acre  in  Middlesex  is  better  than  a  principality  in  Utopia. 
The  smallest  actual  good  is  better  than  the  most  magnificent 
promises  of  impossibilities.  The  wise  man  of  the  Stoics  would, 
no  doubt,  be  a  grander  object  than  a  steam  engine.  But  there 
are  steam  engines.  And  the  wise  man  of  the  Stoics  is  yet  to 
be  born.  A  philosophy  which  should  enable  a  man  to  feel  per- 
fectly happy  while  in  agonies  of  pain  would  be  better  than  a 
philosophy  which  assuages  pain.  But  we  know  that  there  are 
remedies  which  will  assuage  pain  ;  and  we  know  that  the  ancient 


PLATO  AND  BACON.  CT3 

sages  liked  the  toutliaclie  just  as  little  as  their  neighbors.  A 
philosophy  which  should  extinguish  cupidity  would  be  better 
than  a  philosophy  which  should  devise  laws  for  the  security  of 
property.  But  it  is  possible  to  make  laws  which  shall,  to  a 
very  great  extent,  secure  property.  And  we  do  not  understand 
how  any  motives  which  tlie  ancient  pliiloso];)hy  furnished  could 
extinguish  cupidity.  We  know  indeed  that  the  philosophers 
were  no  better  than  other  men.  From  the  testimony  of  friends 
as  well  as  of  foes,  from  the  confessions  of  Epictetus  and  Seneca, 
as  well  as  from  the  sneers  of  Lucian  and  the  iierce  invectives 
of  Juvenal,  it  is  plain  that  these  teachers  of  virtue  had  all  the 
vices  of  their  neighbors,  with  the  additional  vice  of  hypocrisy. 
Some  people  may  think  the  object  of  the  Baconian  philosophy 
a  low  object,  but  they  cannot  deny  that,  high  or  Ioav,  it  has 
been  attained.  They  cannot  deny  that  every  year  makes  an 
addition  to  what  Bacon  called  ''fruit."  They  cannot  deny 
that  mankind  have  made,  and  are  making,  great  and  constant 
progress  in  the  road  which  he  pointed  out  to  them.  Was  there 
any  such  progressive  movement  among  the  ancient  philoso- 
phers? After  they  had  been  declaiming  eight  hundred  years, 
had  they  made  the  world  better  than  when  they  began  ?  Our 
belief  is  that,  among  the  philosophers  themselves,  instead  of  a 
progressive  improvement  there  was  a  progressive  degeneracy. 
An  abject  superstition  which  Deroocritus  or  Anaxagoras  would 
have  rejected  with  scorn,  added  the  last  disgrace  to  the  long 
dotage  of  the  Stoic  and  Platonic  schools.  Those  unsuccessful 
attempts  to  articulate  which  are  so  delightful  and  interesting 
in  a  child  shock  and  disgust  in  an  aged  paralytic ;  and  in  the 
same  Avay  those  wild  and  mythological  fictions  which  charm 
us,  when  we  hear  them  lisped  by  Greek  poetry  in  its  infancy, 
excite  a  mixed  sensation  of  pity  and  loathing,  Avhen  mumbled 
by  Greek  philosophy  in  its  old  age.  We  know  that  guns, 
cutlery,  spyglasses,  clocks,  are  better  in  our  time  than  they 
v/ere  in  the  time  of  our  fathers,  and  were  better  in  the  time  of 
our  fathers  than  they  were  in  the  time  of  our  grandfatliers. 
We  might,  therefore,  be  inclined  to  think  that,  when  a  pliiloso- 
phy  which  boasted  that  its  object  was  the  elevation  and  puri- 
fication of  the  mind,  and  which  for  this  object  neglected  the 
sordid  office  of  ministering  to  the  comforts  of  the  body,  had 
flourished  in  the  highest  honor  during  many  hundreds  of  years, 
a  vast  moral  amelioration  must  have  taken  place.  Was  it  so  ? 
Look  at  the  schools  of  this  wisdom  four  centuries  before  the 
13 


674  PLATO   AND   BACON. 

Christian  era  and  four  centuries  after  that  era.  Compare  the 
men  whom  those  schools  formed  at  those  two  periods.  Compare 
PLato  and  Libanius.  Compare  Pericles  and  Julian.  This  phi- 
losophy confessed,  nay  boasted,  that  for  every  end  but  one  it 
was  useless.     Had  it  attained  that  one  end  ? 

Suppose  that  Justinian,  when  he  closed  the  schools  of  Athens, 
had  called  on  the  last  few  sagos  who  still  haunted  the  Portico 
and  lingered  round  the  ancient  plane  trees,  to  show  their  title 
to  public  veneration  :  suppose  that  he  had  said  :  "  A  thousand 
years  have  elapsed  since,  in  this  famous  city,  Socrates  posed 
Protagoras  and  Hippias ;  during  those  thousand  years  a  large 
proportion  of  the  ablest  men  of  every  generation  has  been  em- 
ployed in  constant  efforts  to  bring  to  perfection  the  philosophy 
which  you  teach,  that  philosophy  has  been  munificently  patron- 
ized by  the  powerful ;  its  professors  have  been  held  in  the 
highest  esteem  by  the  public  ;  it  has  drawn  to  itself  almost  all 
the  sap  and  vigor  of  the  human  intellect :  and  what  has  it 
effected?  What  profitable  truth  has  it  taught  us  wliich  we 
should  not  equally  have  known  without  it  ?  What  has  it  en- 
abled us  to  do  which  we  should  not  have  been  equally  able  to 
do  without  it  ?  "  Such  questions,  we  suspect,  would  have  puz- 
zled Simplicius  and  Isidore.  Ask  a  follower  of  Bacon  what 
the  new  philosophy,  as  it  was  called  in  the  time  of  Charles  the 
Second,  has  effected  for  mankind,  and  his  answer  is  ready  :  "  It 
has  lengthened  life  ;  it  has  migitated  pain  ;  it  has  extinguished 
diseases  ;  it  has  increased  the  fertility  of  the  soil ;  it  has  given 
new  securities  to  the  mariner  ;  it  has  furnished  new  arms  to 
the  warrior  ;  it  has  spanned  great  rivers  and  estuaries  v/ith 
bridges  of  form  unknown  to  our  fathers  ;  it  has  guided  the 
thunderbolt  innocuously  from  heaven  to  earth  ;  it  has  lighted 
up  the  night  with  the  splendor  of  the  day  ;  it  has  extended  the 
range  of  the  human  vision  ;  it  has  multiplied  the  power  of  the 
human  muscles  ;  it  has  accelerated  motion  ;  it  has  annihilated 
distance ;  it  has  facilitated  intercourse,  correspondence,  all 
friendly  offices,  all  dispatch  of  business ;  it  has  enabled  man 
to  descend  to  the  depths  of  the  sea,  to  soar  into  the  air,  to 
penetrate  securely  into  the  noxious  recesses  of  the  earth,  to 
traverse  the  land  in  cars  which  whirl  along  without  horses,  and 
the  ocean  in  ships  which  run  ten  knots  an  hour  against  the 
wind.  These  are  but  a  part  of  its  fruits,  and  of  its  first  fruits. 
For  it  is  a  philosophy  vrhich  never  rests,  which  has  never  at- 
tained, which  is  never  perfect.     Its  law  is  progress.     A  point 


PLATO   AND  BACON.  675 

which  yesterday  was  invisible  is  its  goal  to-day,  and  will  be  its 
starting  post  to-morrow." 

Great  and  various  as  the  powers  of  Bacon  were,  he  owes  his 
wide  and  durable  fame  cliiefly  to  this,  that  all  those  powers 
received  their  direction  from  common  sense.  His  love  of  the 
vulgar  useful,  his  strong  sympathy  with  the  popular  notions  of 
o-ood  and  evil,  and  the  openness  with  which  he  avowed  that 
sympathy,  are  the  secret  of  his  influence.  There  was  in  his 
system  no  cant,  no  illusion.  He  had  no  anointing  for  broken 
bones,  no  fine  theories  definibus,  no  arguments  to  persuade  men 
out  of  their  senses.  He  knew  that  men,  and  philosophers  as 
well  as  other  men,  do  actually  love  life,  health,  comfort,  honor, 
security,  the  society  of  friends,  and  do  actually  dislike  death, 
sickness,  pain,  poverty,  disgrace,  danger,  separation  from  those 
to  whom  they  are  attached.  He  knew  that  religion,  though  it 
often  regulates  and  moderates  these  feelings,  seldom  eradicates 
them  ;  nor  did  he  think  it  desirable  for  mankind  that  they 
should  be  eradicated.  The  plan  of  eradicating  them  by  con- 
ceits like  those  of  Seneca,  or  syllogisms  like  those  of  Chrysippus, 
was  too  preposterous  to  be  for  a  moment  entertained  by  a  mind 
like  his.  He  did  not  understand  what  wisdom  there  could  be 
in  changing  names  where  it  was  impossible  to  change  things  ; 
in  denying  that  blindness,  hunger,  the  gout,  the  rack,  were 
evils,  and  calling  them  cnroTrpo^jfMeva ;  in  refusing  to  acknowl- 
edge that  health,  safety,  plenty,  were  good  things,  and  dubbing 
them  by  the  name  of  ahd^opa.  In  his  opinions  on  all  these 
subjects,  he  was  not  a  Stoic,  nor  an  Epicurean,  nor  an  Academic, 
but  what  would  have  been  called  by  Stoics,  Epicureans,  and 
Academics  a  mere  IBkottj^;,  a  mere  common  man.  And  it  was 
precisely  because  he  was  so  that  his  name  makes  so  great  an 
era  in  the  history  of  the  world.  It  was  because  he  dug  deep 
that  he  was  able  to  pile  high.  It  was  because,  in  order  to  lay 
his  foundations,  he  went  down  into  those  parts  of  human  nature 
which  lie  low,  but  which  are  not  liable  to  change,  that  the  fabric 
which  he  reared  has  risen  to  so  stately  an  elevation,  and  stands 
with  such  immovable  strength. 

We  have  sometimes  thought  that  an  amusing  fiction  might 
be  written,  in  which  a  disciple  of  Epictetus  and  a  disciple  of 
Bacon  should  be  introduced  as  fellow-travelers.  They  come 
to  a  village  where  the  smallpox  has  just  begun  to  rage,  and  find 
houses  shut  up,  intercourse  suspended,  the  sick  abandoned, 
mothers  weeping  in  terror   over   their  children.     The   Stoic 


676  A  GRECIAN  SUNSET. 

assures  the  dismayed  population  tliat  there  is  nothing  bad  in 
the  smallpox,  and  that  to  a  wise  man  disease,  deformity,  death, 
the  loss  of  friends,  are  not  evils.  The  Baconian  takes  out  a 
lancet  and  begins  to  vaccinate.  They  find  a  body  of  miners  in 
great  dismay.  An  explosion  of  noisome  vapors  has  just  killed 
many  of  those  who  were  at  work  ;  and  the  survivors  are  afraid 
to  venture  into  the  cavern.  The  Stoic  assures  them  that  such 
an  accident  is  nothing  but  a  mere  aTroTrporiyfievou.  The  Baco- 
nian, who  has  no  such  fine  word  at  his  command,  contents  him- 
self with  devising  a  safety  lamp.  They  find  a  shipwrecked 
merchant  wringing  his  hands  on  the  shore.  Plis  vessel  with  an 
inestimable  cargo  has  just  gone  down,  and  he  is  reduced  in  a 
moment  from  opulence  to  beggary.  The  Stoic  exhorts  him  not 
to  seek  happiness  in  things  which  lie  without  himself,  and 
repeats  the  whole  chapter  of  Epictetus  tt/oo?  Tov<i  rrjv  airoplav 
h^hoLKOTa'i.  The  Baconian  constructs  a  diving  bell,  goes  down 
in  it,  and  returns  with  the  most  precious  effects  from  the  wreck. 
It  would  be  easy  to  multiply  illustrations  of  the  difference  be- 
tween the  philosophy  of  thorns  and  the  philosophy  of  fruit, 
the  philosophy  of  words  and  the  philosophy  of  works. 

•o'Ht^oo 

A   GRECIAN   SUNSET. 

By  lord  BYROX. 

[For  biographical  sketch,  see  page  555.] 

Slow  sinks,  more  lovely  ere  his  race  be  run, 

Along  Morea's  hills  the  setting  sun ; 

Not,  as  in  northern  climes,  obscurely  bright, 

But  one  unclouded  blaze  of  living  light : 

O'er  the  hushed  deep  the  yellov/  beam  he  throws, 

Gilds  the  green  wave  that  trembles  as  it  glows. 

Qn  old  ^gina's  rock  and  Hydra's  isle 

The  god  of  gladness  sheds  his  parting  smile : 

O'er  his  own  regions  lingering  loves  to  shine. 

Though  there  his  altars  are  no  more  divine. 

Descending  fast,  the  mountain  shadows  kiss 

Thy  glorious  gulf,  unconquered  Salamis  ! 

Their  azure  arches  through  the  long  expanse, 

More  deeply  purpled,  meet  his  mellowing  glance, 


w  GRECIAN  SUNSET.  677 

And  teiiderest  tints,  along  their  summits  driven, 
Mark  his  gay  course,  and  own  the  hues  of  heaven; 
Till,  darkly  shaded  from  the  land  and  deep. 
Behind  his  Delphian  rock  he  sinks  to  sleep. 

On  such  an  eve  his  palest  beam  he  cast, 
When,  Athens !  here  thy  wisest  breathed  his  last. 
How  watched  thy  better  sons  his  farewell  ray, 
That  closed  their  murdered  sage's  latest  day ! 
Not  yet  —  not  yet  —  Sol  pauses  on  the  hill, 
The  precious  hour  of  parting  lingers  still : 
But  sad  his  light  to  agonizing  eyes. 
And  dark  the  mountain's  once  delightful  dyes; 
Gloom  o'er  the  lovely  land  he  seems  to  pour  — 
The  land  w^here  Phoebus  never  froAvned  before: 
But  ere  he  sunk  below  Cithaeron's  head. 
The  cup  of  woe  was  quaffed  —  the  spirit  fled : 
The  soul  of  him  who  scorned  to  fear  or  fly. 
Who  lived  and  died  as  none  can  live  or  die. 

But  lo !  from  high  Hymettus  to  the  plain, 
The  queen  of  night  asserts  her  silent  reign; 
No  murky,  vapor,  herald  of  the  storm, 
Hides  her  fair  face,  or  girds  her  glowing  form. 
With  cornice  glimmering  as  the  moonbeams  play, 
Where  the  white  column  greets  her  grateful  ray, 
And  bright  around,  with  quivering  beams  beset, 
Her  emblem  sparkles  o'er  the  minaret : 
The  groves  of  olive  scattered  dark  and  wide, 
Where  meek  Cephisus  sheds  his  scanty  tide. 
The  cypress  saddening  by  the  sacred  mosque. 
The  gleaming  turret  of  the  gay  kiosk. 
And  sad  and  somber  'mid  the  holy  calm. 
Near  Theseus'  fane,  one  solitary  palm : 
All,  tinged  with  varied  hues,  arrest  the  eye, 
And  dull  were  his  who  passed  them  heedless  by. 

Again  the  ^gean,  heard  no  more  from  far. 
Lulls  his  chafed  breast  from  elemental  war : 
Again  his  waves  in  milder  tints  unfold 
Their  long  expanse  of  sapphire  and  of  gold. 
Mixed  with  the  shades  of  many  a  distant  isle, 
That  frown,  where  gentler  ocean  deigns  to  smile. 


678  THE   TRIAL  OF  SOCRATES. 

THE   TRIAL   OF   SOCRATES.' 
B.C.  399. 

(From  the  "  Euthypbron  "  and  the  "  Apology  "  of  Plato  :  translated  by 
F.  J.  Church.) 

[Plato,  the  great  Greek  philosopher,  was  born  in  or  near  Athens,  b.c.  429, 
the  year  of  Pericles'  death.  His  name  was  Aristocles  ;  Plato  ("Broady  ")  was 
a  nickname,  probably  from  his  figure.  He  began  to  write  poems ;  but  after 
meeting  Socrates  at  twenty  he  burnt  them,  became  Socrates'  disciple  for  ten 
years,  and  was  with  him  at  his  trial  and  death.  Afterwards  he  traveled  widely, 
and  settled  at  Athens  as  a  teacher  of  philosophy ;  among  his  pupils  was  Aris- 
totle. His  "  Dialogues"  are  still  the  noblest  body  of  philosophical  thought  in 
existence,  and  of  matchless  literary  beauty.  Emerson  says,  "  Out  of  Plato  coma 
all  things  that  are  still  written  and  debated  among  men  of  thought.  .  .  .  Plato 
ia  philosophy,  and  philosophy  Plato."] 

I. 

Socrates,  on  the  eve  of  his  trial  for  impiety,  wishes  to  show  that  the  popular  notions 
about  piety  and  impiefy,  or  holiness  and  unholiness,  will  not  bear  testing. 

JEutTiyphron  —  What  in  the  world  are  you  doing  here  at  the 
archon's  porch,  Socrates  ?  Why  have  you  left  your  haunts  in 
the  Lyceum  ?  You  surely  cannot  have  an  action  before  him,  as 
I  have. 

Socrates  —  Nay,  the  Athenians,  Euthyphron,  call  it  a  prose- 
cution, not  an  action. 

Euthyphron  —  What?  Do  you  mean  that  some  one  is  prose- 
cuting you?  I  cannot  believe  that  you  are  prosecuting  any 
one  yourself. 

Socrates  —  Certainly  I  am  not. 

Euthyphron  —  Then  is  some  one  prosecuting  you  ? 

Socrates  —  Yes. 

Euthyphron  —  Who  is  he? 

Socrates  —  I  scarcely  know  him  myself,  Euthyphron;  I 
think  he  must  be  some  unknown  young  man.  His  name,  how- 
ever, is  Meletus,  and  his  deme  Pitthis,  if  you  can  call  to  mind 
any  Meletus  of  that  deme,  —  a  hook-nosed  man  with  long  hair, 
and  a  rather  scanty  beard. 

Euthyphron  —  I  don't  know  him,  Socrates.  But,  tell  me, 
what  is  he  prosecuting  you  for  ? 

Socrates  —  What  for  ?  Not  on  trivial  grounds,  I  think.  It 
is  no  small  thing  for  so  young  a  man  to  have  formed  an  opinion 
on  such  an  important  matter.     For  he,  he  says,  knows  how  the 

'  B'^  nermission  of  the  publishers,  Macmillan  &  Co.,  Ltd. 


SOCRATES 


THE  TRIAL  OF  SOCRATES.  679 

young  are  corrupted,  and  who  are  their  corrupters.  He  must 
be  a  wise  man,  who,  observing  my  ignorance,  is  going  to  accuse 
me  to  the  city,  as  liis  mother,  of  corrupting  his  friends.  I  think 
that  he  is  the  only  man  who  begins  at  the  right  point  in  his 
political  reforms  :  I  mean  whose  first  care  is  to  make  the  young 
men  as  perfect  as  possible,  just  as  a  good  farmer  will  take  care 
of  his  young  plants  first,  and,  after  he  has  done  that,  of  the 
others.  And  so  Meletus,  I  suppose,  is  first  clearing  us  off,  who, 
as  he  says,  corrupt  the  young  men  as  they  grow  up  ;  and  then, 
when  he  has  done  that,  of  course  he  will  turn  his  attention  to 
the  older  men,  and  so  become  a  very  great  public  benefactor. 
Indeed,  that  is  only  what  you  would  expect,  when  he  goes  to 
work  in  this  way. 

EiUhjphron  —  I  hope  it  may  be  so,  Socrates,  but  I  have  very 
grave  doubts  about  it.  It  seems  to  me  that  in  trying  to  injure 
you,  he  is  really  setting  to  work  by  striking  a  blow  at  the  heart 
of  the  state.  But  how,  tell  me,  does  he  say  that  you  corrupt 
the  youth  ? 

Socrates  —  In  a  way  which  sounds  strange  at  first,  my  friend. 
He  says  that  I  am  a  maker  of  gods ;  and  so  he  is  prosecuting 
me,  he  says,  for  inventing  new  gods,  and  for  not  believing  in 
the  old  ones. 

Euthyphi'on  —  I  understand,  Socrates.  It  is  because  you 
say  that  you  always  have  a  divine  sign.  So  he  is  prosecuting 
you  for  introducing  novelties  into  religion  ;  and  he  is  going 
into  court  knowing  that  such  matters  are  easil}^  misrepresented 
to  the  multitude,  and  consequently  meaning  to  slander  you 
there.  Why,  they  laugh  even  me  to  scorn,  as  if  I  were  out  of 
my  mind,  when  I  talk  about  divine  things  in  the  assembly,  and 
tell  them  what  is  going  to  happen  :  and  yet  I  have  never  fore- 
told anything  which  has  not  come  true.  But  they  are  jealous 
of  all  people  like  us.  We  must  not  think  about  them  :  we 
must  meet  them  boldly. 

Socrates  —  My  dear  Euthyphron,  their  ridicule  is  not  a  very 
serious  matter.  The  Athenians,  it  seems  to  me,  may  think  a 
man  to  be  clever  without  paying  him  much  attention,  so  long  as 
they  do  not  think  that  he  teaches  his  wisdom  to  others.  But  as 
soon  as  they  think  that  he  makes  other  people  clever,  they  get 
angry,  whether  it  be  from  jealousy,  as  you  say,  or  for  some  other 
reason. 

Euthyphron  —  I  am  not  very  anxious  to  try  their  disposition 
towards  me  in  this  matter. 


680  THE  TiilAL  OF  SOCRATES. 

Socrates  —  No,  perhaps  they  think  that  you  seldom  show 
yourself,  and  that  you  are  not  anxious  to  teach  your  v.'isdom  to 
others ;  but  I  fear  that  they  may  think  that  I  am ;  for  my  love 
of  men  makes  me  talk  to  every  one  whom  I  meet  quite  freely 
and  unreservedly,  and  without  payment :  indeed,  if  I  could,  I 
would  gladly  pay  people  myself  to  listen  to  me.  If  then,  as 
1  said  just  now,  they  w^ere  only  going  to  laugh  at  me,  as  you 
say  they  do  at  you,  it  would  not  be  at  all  an  unpleasant  way  of 
sj^ending  the  day,  to  spend  it  in  court,  jesting  and  laughing. 
But  if  they  are  going  to  be  in  earnest,  then  only  prophets  like 
yoii  can  tell  where  the  matter  will  end. 

Eutlriiphron  —  Well,  Socrates,  I  dare  say  that  nothing  will 
come  of  it.  Very  likely  you  will  be  successful  in  your  trial, 
and  I  think  that  I  shall  be  in  mine. 

Socrates  —  And  what  is  this  suit  of  yours,  Euthyphron? 
Are  you  suing,  or  being  sued? 

EuthypJiron  —  I  am  suing. 

Socrates  —  Whom  ? 

Euthyphron  —  A  man  whom  I  am  thought  a  maniac  to  be 
suing. 

Socrates  —  What?     Has  he  wings  to  fly  aw^ay  with? 

Euthyphron  —  He  is  far  enough  from  flying  ;  he  is  a  very 
old  man. 

Socrates  —  Who  is  he  ? 

Euthyphron  —  He  is  my  father. 

[Tlien  Euthyphron  having  stated  that  he  was  prosecuting 
his  father  for  having  murdered  a  slave,  Socrates  asks  him  to 
define  holiness.  Euthyphron  becomes  entangled,  and  Socrates 
points  out  that  he  has  not  answered  his  question.  He  does 
not  want  a  particular  example  of  holiness.  He  w^ints  to  know 
what  that  is  which  makes  all  holy  actions  holy.  Euthyphron, 
at  length,  defines  holiness  as  "that  which  is  pleasing  to  the 
gods."  But  Socrates,  by  a  series  of  apparently  innocent  ques- 
tions, compels  Euthyphron  to  admit  the  absurdity  of  his  defini- 
tion. Euthyphron  has  no  better  fortune  with  a  second  and 
third  definition,  and  he  passes  from  a  state  of  patronizing  self- 
complacency  to  one  of  puzzled  confusion  and  deeply  offended 
pride.] 

Socrates  —  Then  we  must  begin  again,  and  inquire  what  is 
holiness.  I  do  not  mean  to  give  in  until  I  have  found  out. 
Do  not  deem  me  unworthy  ;  give  your  whole  mind  to  the 
question,  and  this  time  tell  me  the  truth.      For  if   any  one 


THE  TRIAL  OF  SOCRATES.  C81 

knows  it,  it  is  you  ;  and  you  are  a  Proteus  wliom  I  must  not  let 
go  until  you  have  told  me.  It  cannot  be  that  you  would  ever 
have  undertaken  to  prosecute  your  aged  father  for  the  murder 
of  a  laboring  man  unless  you  had  known  exactly  what  is 
holiness  and  unholiness.  You  would  have  feared  to  risk  the 
anger  of  the  gods,  in  case  you  should  be  doing  wrong,  and  you 
would  have  been  afraid  of  what  men  would  say.  13 ut  now  1 
am  sure  that  you  think  that  you  know  exactly  what  is  holiness 
and  what  is  not ;  so  tell  me,  my  excellent  Euthyphron,  and  do 
not  conceal  from  me  what  you  hold  it  to  be. 

Euthyphron  —  Another  time,  then,  Socrates.  I  am  in  a  hurry 
noAV,  and  it  is  time  for  me  to  be  off. 

Socrates  —  Wliat  are  you  doing,  my  friend !  Will  you  go 
aAvay  and  destroy  all  my  hopes  of  learning  from  you  what  is 
holy  and  what  is  not,  and  so  of  escaping  Meletus  ?  I  meant 
to  explain  to  him  that  now  Euthyphron  has  made  me  wise 
about  divine  tilings,  and  that  I  no  longer  in  my  ignorance 
speak  rashly  about  them  or  introduce  novelties  in  them  ;  and 
then  I  was  going  to  promise  him  to  live  a  better  life  for  the 
future. 

IT. 

Socrates  defends  himself  before  the  Athenians. 

Socrates  —  I  cannot  tell  what  impression  my  accusers  have 
made  upon  you,  Athenians  :  for  my  own  part,  I  know  that  they 
nearly  made  me  rorget  who  I  was,  so  plausible  were  they  ;  and 
yet  they  have  scarcely  uttered  one  single  word  of  truth.  But 
of  all  their  many  falsehoods,  the  one  which  astonished  me  most, 
was  when  they  said  that  I  was  a  clever  speaker,  and  that  you 
must  be  careful  not  to  let  me  mislead  you.  I  thought  that  it 
was  most  impudent  of  them  not  to  be  ashamed  to  talk  in  that 
way  ;  for  as  soon  as  I  open  my  mouth  the  lie  will  be  exposed, 
and  I  shall  prove  that  I  am  not  a  clever  speaker  in  any  way 
at  all :  unless,  indeed,  by  a  clever  speaker  they  mean  a  man 
who  speaks  the  truth.  If  that  is  their  meaning,  I  agree  with 
them  that  I  am  a  much  greater  orator  than  they.  My  accusers, 
then  I  repeat,  have  said  little  or  nothing  that  is  true  ;  but  from 
me  you  sliall  hear  the  whole  truth.  Certainly  you  will  not 
hear  an  elaborate  speech,  Athenians,  drest  up,  like  theirs,  with 
words  and  phrases.     I  will  say  to  you  what  I  have  to  say, 


682  THE  TRIAL  OF  SOCRATES. 

without  preparation,  and  in  the  words  which  come  first,  for 
I  believe  that  my  cause  is  just ;  so  let  none  of  you  expect 
anything  else.  Indeed,  my  friends,  it  would  hardly  be  seemly 
for  me,  at  my  age,  to  come  before  you  like  a  young  man  with 
his  specious  falsehoods.  But  there  is  one  thing,  Athenians, 
which  I  do  most  earnestly  beg  and  entreat  of  you.  Do  not 
be  surprised  and  do  not  interrupt,  if  in  my  defense  I  speak  in 
the  same  way  that  I  am  accustomed  to  speak  in  the  market 
place,  at  the  tables  of  the  money  changers,  where  many  of  you 
have  heard  me,  and  elsewhere.  The  truth  is  this.  I  am  more 
than  seventy  years  old,  and  this  is  the  first  time  that  I  have 
ever  come  before  a  Court  of  Law  ;  so  your  manner  of  speech 
here  is  quite  strange  to  me.  If  I  had  been  really  a  stranger, 
you  would  have  forgiven  me  for  speaking  in  the  language  and 
the  fashion  of  my  native  country  :  and  so  now  I  ask  you  to 
grant  me  what  I  think  I  have  a  right  to  claim.  Never  mind 
the  style  of  my  speech  —  it  may  be  better  or  it  may  be  worse 
—  give  your  whole  attention  to  the  question.  Is  what  I  say  just, 
or  is  it  not  ?  That  is  what  makes  a  good  judge,  as  speaking 
the  truth  makes  a  good  advocate. 

I  have  to  defend  myself,  Athenians,  first  against  the  old 
false  charges  of  my  old  accusers,  and  then  against  the  later 
ones  of  my  present  accusers.  For  many  men  have  been  accus- 
ing me  to  you,  and  for  very  many  years,  who  have  not  uttered 
a  word  of  truth  :  and  I  fear  them  more  than  I  fear  Anytus 
and  his  companions,  formidable  as  they  are.  But,  my  friends, 
those  others  are  still  more  formidable;  for  they  got  hold  of 
most  of  you  when  you  were  children,  and  they  have  been  more 
persistent  in  accusing  me  with  lies,  and  in  trying  to  persuade 
you  that  there  is  one  Socrates,  a  wise  man,  who  speculates 
about  the  heavens,  and  who  examines  into  all  things  that  are 
beneath  the  earth,  and  who  can  "  make  the  worse  appear  the 
better  reason." 

These  men,  Athenians,  who  spread  abroad  this  report,  are 
the  accusers  whom  I  fear  ;  for  their  hearers  think  that  persons 
who  pursue  such  inquiries  never  believe  in  the  gods.  And 
then  they  are  many,  and  their  attacks  have  been  going  on  for 
a  long  time  :  and  they  spoke  to  you  when  you  were  at  the  age 
most  readily  to  believe  them:  for  you  were  all  young,  and 
many  of  you  were  children :  and  there  was  no  one  to  answer 
them  when  they  attacked  me.  And  the  most  unreasonable 
thing  of  all  is  that  commonly  I  do  not  even  know  their  names  : 


THE  TRIAL  OF  SOCRATES.  683 

I  cannot  tell  you  who  they  are,  except  in  the  case  of  the  comio 
poets. 

But  all  the  rest  who  have  been  trying  to  prejudice  you 
against  me,  from  motives  of  spite  and  jealousy,  and  sometimes, 
it  may  be,  from  conviction,  are  the  enemies  whom  it  is  hardest 
to  meet.  For  I  cannot  call  any  one  of  them  forward  in  Court, 
to  cross-examine  him  :  I  have,  as  it  were,  simply  to  fight  with 
shadows  in  my  defense,  and  to  put  questions  which  there  is  no 
one  to  answer.  I  ask  you,  therefore,  to  believe  that,  as  I  say, 
I  have  been  attacked  by  two  classes  of  accusers  —  first  by 
Meletus  and  his  friends,  and  then  by  those  older  ones  of  whom 
I  have  spoken.  And,  with  your  leave,  I  will  defend  myself 
first  against  my  old  enemies ;  for  you  heard  their  accusations 
first,  and  they  wer«3  much  more  persistent  than  my  present 
accusers  are. 

Well,  I  must  make  my  defense,  Athenians,  and  try  in  the 
short  time  allowed  me  to  remove  the  prejudice  which  you 
have  had  against  me  for  a  long  time. 

Let  us  begin  again,  then,  and  see  what  is  the  charge  which 
has  given  rise  to  the  prejudice  against  me,  which  was  what 
Meletus  relied  on  when  he  drew  his  indictment.  What  is  the 
calumny  which  my  enemies  have  been  spreading  about  me? 
I  must  assume  that  they  are  formally  accusing  me,  and  read 
their  indictment.     It  would  run  somewhat  in  this  fashion  :  — 

"  Socrates  is  an  evil  doer,  who  meddles  with  inquiries  into 
things  beneath  the  earth,  and  in  heaven,  and  who  '  makes  the 
worse  appear  the  better  reason,'  and  who  teaches  others  these 
same  things." 

That  is  what  they  say ;  and  in  the  Comedy  of  Aristophanes 
you  yourselves  saw  a  man  called  Socrates  swinging  round  in  a 
basket,  and  saying  that  he  walked  the  air,  and  talking  a  great 
deal  of  nonsense  about  matters  of  which  I  understand  nothing, 
either  more  or  less.  I  do  not  mean  to  disparage  that  kind  of 
knowledge,  if  there  is  any  man  who  possesses  it.  I  trust 
Meletus  may  never  be  able  to  prosecute  me  for  that.  But,  the 
truth  is,  Athenians,  I  have  nothing  to  do  with  these  matters, 
and  almost  all  of  you  are  yourselves  my  witnesses  of  this.  I 
beg  all  of  you  who  have  ever  heard  me  converse,  and  they  are 
many,  to  inform  your  neighbors  and  tell  them  if  any  of  you 
have  ever  heard  me  conversing  about  such  matters,  either  more 
or  less.  That  will  show  you  that  the  other  common  stories 
about  me  are  as  false  as  this  one. 


C84  THE  TRIAL  OF  SOCRATES. 

[He  is  accused  of  being  at  once  a  wicked  sophist  wlio  exacts 
money  for  teacliing  and  a  natural  philosopher.  lie  distin- 
guishes these  characters,  and  shows  that  lie  is  neither.  He  is 
unpopular  because  he  has  taken  on  himself  the  duty  of  examin- 
ing men,  in  consequence  of  a  certain  answer  given  by  the 
Delphic  oracle,  "that he  was  the  wisest  of  men."  He  describes 
the  examination  of  men  which  he  undertook  to  test  the  truth 
of  the  oracle.  This  has  gained  him  much  hatred  :  men  do  not 
like  to  be  proved  ignorant  when  they  think  themselves  wise, 
and  so  they  call  him  a  sophist  and  every  kind  of  bad  name 
besides,  because  he  exposes  their  pretense  of  knowledge.] 

What  I  have  said  must  suffice  as  my  defense  against  the 
charges  of  my  first  accusers.  I  will  try  next  to  defend  myself 
against  that  "good  patriot"  Meletus,  as  he  calls  himself,  and 
my  later  accusers.  Let  us  assume  that  they  are  a  new  set  of 
accusers,  and  read  their  indictment,  as  we  did  in  the  case  of  the 
others.  It  runs  thus.  He  says  that  Socrates  is  an  evil  doer 
who  corrupts  the  youth,  and  who  does  not  believe  in  the  gods 
whom  the  city  believes  in,  but  in  other  new  divinities.  Such 
is  the  charge. 

Let  us  examine  each  point  in  it  separately.  Meletus  says 
that  I  do  wrong  by  corrupting  the  youth  :  but  I  say,  Athenians, 
that  he  is  doing  wrong ;  for  he  is  playing  off  a  solemn  jest  by 
bringing  men  lightly  to  trial,  and  pretending  to  have  a  great 
zeal  and  interest  in  matters  to  which  he  has  never  given  a 
moment's  thought.  And  now  I  will  try  to  prove  to  you  that 
it  is  so. 

Come  here,  Meletus.  Is  it  not  a  fact  that  j'^ou  think  it 
very  important  that  the  younger  men  should  be  as  excellent  as 
possible  ? 

Meletus  —  It  is. 

Socrates  —  Come  then :  tell  the  judges,  who  is  it  who  im- 
proves them  ?  You  take  so  much  interest  in  the  matter  that 
of  course  you  know  that.  You  are  accusing  me,  and  bringing 
me  to  trial,  because,  as  you  say,  you  have  discovered  that  I 
am  the  corrupter  of  tlie  youth.  Come  now,  reveal  to  the 
judges  who  improves  them.  You  see,  IMeletus,  you  have  noth- 
ing to  sa}^;  you  are  silent.  But  don't  you  think  that  this  is  a 
scandalous  thing?  Is  not  your  silence  a  conclusive  proof  of 
what  I  say,  that  you  have  never  given  a  moment's  thought  to 
the  matter  ?  Come,  tell  us,  my  good  sir,  wlio  makes  the  young 
men  better  citizens? 


THE  TRIAL  OF  SOCRATES.  685 

Meletus  —  The  laws. 

Socrates  —  IMy  excellent  sir,  that  is  not  my  question.  What 
man  improves  the  young,  who  starts  with  a  knowledge  of  the 
laws  ? 

Meletus  —  The  judges  here,  Socrates. 

Socrates  —  What  do  you  mean,  Meletus  ?  Can  they  educate 
the  young  and  improve  them  ? 

Meletus  —  Certainly. 

Socrates  —  All  of  them?  or  only  some  of  them? 

Meletus  —  All  of  them. 

Socrates  —  By  Here  that  is  good  news?  There  is  a  great 
abundance  of  benefactors.  And  do  the  listeners  here  improve 
them,  or  not  ? 

Meletus  —  They  do. 

Socrates  —  And  do  the  senators? 

Meletus  —  Yes. 

Socrates  —  Well  then,  Meletus,  do  the  members  of  the 
Assembly  corrupt  the  younger  men  ?  or  do  they  again  all  im- 
prove them? 

Meletus  —  They  too  improve  them. 

Socrates  —  Then  all  the  Athenians,  apparently,  make  the 
young  into  fine  fellows  except  me,  and  I  alone  corrupt  them. 
Is  that  your  meaning  ? 

Meletus  —  Most  certamly  ;  that  is  my  meaning. 

Socrates  —  You  have  discovered  me  to  be  a  most  unfortunate 
man.  Now  tell  me  :  do  you  think  that  the  same  holds  good  in 
the  case  of  horses  ?  Does  one  man  do  them  harm  and  every  one 
else  improve  them  ?  On  the  contrary,  is  it  not  one  man  only, 
or  a  very  few  —  namely,  those  who  are  skilled  in  horses  —  who 
can  improve  them  ;  while  the  majority  of  men  harm  them,  if 
they  use  them,  and  have  to  do  with  them  ?  Is  it  not  so,  Mele- 
tus, both  with  horses  and  with  every  other  animal  ?  Of  course 
it  is,  whether  you  and  Anytus  say  yes  or  no.  And  young  men 
would  certainly  be  very  fortunate  persons  if  only  one  man  cor- 
rupted them,  and  every  one  else  did  them  good.  The  truth  is, 
Meletus,  you  prove  conclusively  that  you  have  never  thought 
about  the  youth  in  your  life.  It  is  quite  clear,  on  your  own 
showing,  that  you  take  no  interest  at  all  in  the  matters  about 
which  you  are  prosecuting  me. 

[He  proves  that  it  is  absurd  to  say  that  he  corrupts  the 
young  intentionally,  and  if  he  corrupts  them  unintentionally, 
the  law  does  not  call  upon  Meletus  to  prosecute  him  for  an 


686  THE  TRIAL  OF  SOCRATES. 

involuntary  fault.  Witli  regard  to  the  charge  of  teaching 
young  men  not  to  believe  in  the  gods  of  the  city,  he  cross- 
examines  Meletus  and  involves  him  in  several  contradictions.] 

But  in  truth,  Athenians,  I  do  not  think  that  I  need  say  very 
much  to  prove  that  I  have  not  committed  the  crime  for  which 
Meletus  is  prosecuting  me.  AVhat  I  have  said  is  enough  to 
prove  that.  Bat,  I  repeat,  it  is  certainly  true,  as  I  have  al- 
ready told  you,  that  I  have  incurred  much  unpopularity  and 
made  many  enemies.  And  that  is  what  will  cause  my  condem- 
nation, if  I  am  condemned ;  not  Meletus,  nor  Anytus  either, 
but  the  prejudice  and  suspicion  of  the  multitude.  They  have 
been  the  destruction  of  many  good  men  before  me,  and  I  think 
that  they  will  be  so  again.  There  is  no  fear  that  I  shall  be 
their  last  victim. 

Perhaps  some  one  will  say  :  "  Are  you  not  ashamed,  Socrates, 
of  following  pursuits  which  are  very  likely  now  to  cause  your 
death?"  I  should  answer  him  with  justice,  and  say:  "My 
friend,  if  you  think  that  a  man  of  any  worth  at  all  ought  to 
reckon  the  chances  of  life  and  death  when  he  acts,  or  that  he 
ought  to  think  of  anything  but  whether  he  is  acting  rightly  or 
wrongly,  and  as  a  good  or  a  bad  man  would  act,  you  are  griev- 
ously mistaken."  According  to  you,  the  demigods  who  died  at 
Troy  would  be  men  of  no  great  worth,  and  among  them  the 
son  of  Thetis,  who  thought  nothing  of  danger  when  the  alter- 
native was  disgrace.  For  when  his  mother,  a  goddess,  ad- 
dressed him,  as  he  was  burning  to  slay  Hector,  I  suppose  in 
this  fashion,  "  My  son,  if  thou  avengest  the  death  of  thy  com- 
rade Patroclus,  and  slayest  Hector,  thou  wilt  die  thyself,  for 
*  Fate  awaits  thee  straightway  after  Hector's  death  ; '  "  he  heard 
what  she  said,  but  he  scorned  danger  and  death;  he  feared 
much  more  to  live  a  coward,  and  not  to  avenge  liis  friend.  "  Let 
me  punish  the  evil  doer  and  straightway  die,"  he  said,  "  that  1 
may  not  remain  here  by  the  beaked  ships,  a  scorn  of  men,  en- 
cumbering the  earth."  Do  you  suppose  that  he  thought  of 
danger  or  of  death?  For  this,  Athenians,  I  believe  to  be  the 
truth.  Wherever  a  man's  post  is,  whether  he  has  chosen  it  of 
his  own  will,  or  whether  he  has  been  placed  at  it  by  his  com- 
mander, there  it  is  his  duty  to  remain  and  face  the  danger, 
without  thinking  of  death,  or  of  any  other  thing,  except  dis- 
honor. 

When  the  generals  whom  you  chose  to  command  me,  Athe- 
nians, placed  me  at  my  post  at  Potidcea,  and  at  Amphipolis,  and 


THE   TRIAL  OF  SOCRATES.  687 

at  Delium,  I  remained  where  tliey  placed  me,  and  ran  the  risk 
of  death,  like  other  men  :  and  it  would  be  very  strange  conduct 
on  my  part  if  I  were  to  desert  my  post  now  from  fear  of  death 
or  of  any  other  thing,  Avhen  God  has  conmianded  me,  as  I  am 
persuaded  that  he  has  done,  to  spend  my  life  in  searching  for 
wisdom,  and  in  examining  myself  and  others.     That  would  in- 
deed be  a  very  strange  thing :  and  then  certainly  I  might  with 
justice  be  brought  to  trial  for  not  believing  in  the  gods  :  for  I 
should  be  disobeying  the  oracle,  and  fearing  death,  and  thinking 
myself  wise,  when  I  was  not  wise.     For  to  fear  death,  my  friends, 
is  only  to  think  ourselves  wise,  without  being  wise  :  for  it  is 
to  think  that  we  know  what  we  do  not  know.     For  anything 
that  men  can  tell,  death  may  be  the  greatest   good  that  can 
happen  to  them :  but  they  fear  it  as  if  they  knew  quite  well 
that  it  was  the  greatest  of  evils.     And  what  is  this  but  that 
shameful  ignorance  of  thinking  that  we  know  what  we  do  not 
know  ?     In  this  matter  too,  my  friends,  perhaps  I  am  different 
from  the  mass  of  mankind :  and  if  I  were  to  claim  to  be  at  all 
wiser  than  others,  it  vrould  be  because  I  do  not  think  that  I 
have  any  clear  knowledge  about  the  other  world,  when,  in  fact, 
I  have  none.     But  I  do  know  very  well  that  it  is  evil  and  base 
to  do  wrong,  and  to  disobey  my  superior,  whether  he  be  man 
or  god.     And  I  will  never  do  what  I  know  to  be  evil,  and 
shrink  in  fear  from  what,  for  all  that  I  can  tell,  may  be  a  good. 
And  so,  even  if  you  acquit  me  now,  and  do  not  listen  to  Anytus' 
argument  that,  if  I  am  to  be  acquitted,  I  ought  never  to  have 
been  brought  to  trial  at  all ;  and  that,  as  it  is,  you  are  bound 
to  put  me  to  death,  because,  as  he  said,  if  I  escape,  all  your 
children  will  forthwith  be  utterly  corrupted  by  ]3racticing  what 
Socrates  teaches ;  if  you  were  therefore  to  say  to  me,  "  Socrates, 
this  time  we  will  not  listen  to  Anytus  :  we  will  let  you  go  ;  but 
on  tliis  condition,  that  you  cease  from  carrying  on  this  search 
of  yours,  and  from  philosophy  ;  if  you  are  found  following  those 
pursuits  again,  you  shall  die  :  "  I  say,  if  you  offered  to  let  me 
go  on  these  terms,  I  should  repl}^ :    "  Athenians,  I  hold  you  in 
the  highest  regard  and  love ;  but  I  will  obey  God  rather  than 
you :  and  as  long  as  I  have  breath  and  strength  I  will  not  cease 
from  pliilosophy,  and  from  exhorting  you,  and  declaring  the 
truth  to  every  one  of  you  whom  I  meet,  saying,  as  I  am  wont, 
'  My  excellent  friend,  you  are  a  citizen  of  Athens,  a  city  which 
is  very  great  and  very  famous  for  v/isdom  and  power  of  mind  ; 
are  you  not  ashamed  of  caring  so  much  for  the  making  of  money, 


688  THE  TRIAL  OF  SOCRATES. 

and  for  reputation,  and  for  honor?  "Will  you  not  think  or  care 
about  wisdom,  and  truth,  and  the  perfection  of  your  soul  ?  '  " 

And  if  he  disputes  my  words,  and  says  that  he  does  care 
about  these  things,  I  shall  not  forthwith  release  him  and  go 
away :  I  shall  question  him  and  cross-examine  him  and  test 
liim :  and  if  I  think  that  he  has  not  virtue,  though  he  says  that 
he  has,  I  shall  reproach  him  for  setting  the  lower  value  on  the 
most  important  things,  and  a  higher  value  on  those  that  are  of 
less  account.  This  I  shall  do  to  every  one  whom  I  meet,  young 
or  old,  citizen  or  stranger :  but  more  especially  to  the  citizens, 
for  they  are  more  nearly  akin  to  me. 

For,  know  well,  God  has  commanded  me  to  do  so.  And  I  think 
that  no  better  piece  of  fortune  has  ever  befallen  you  in  Athens 
than  my  service  to  God.  For  I  spend  my  whole  life  in  going 
about  and  persuading  you  all  to  give  your  first  and  chiefest 
care  to  the  perfection  of  your  souls,  and  not  till  you  have  done 
that  to  think  of  your  bodies,  or  your  wealth ;  and  telling  you 
that  virtue  does  not  come  from  wealth,  but  that  wealth,  and 
every  other  good  thing  which  men  have,  whether  in  public,  or 
in  private,  comes  from  virtue.  If  then  I  corrupt  the  youth  by 
this  teaching,  the  mischief  is  great :  but  if  any  man  says  that  I 
teach  anything  else,  he  speaks  falsely.  And  therefore,  Athe- 
nians, I  say,  either  listen  to  Anytus,  or  do  not  listen  to  him : 
either  acquit  me,  or  do  not  acquit  me  :  but  be  sure  that  I  shall 
not  alter  my  way  of  life ;  no,  not  if  I  have  to  die  for  it  many 
times. 

[If  the  Athenians  put  him  to  death,  they  will  harm  them- 
selves more  than  him.  The  city  is  like  a  great  and  noble 
horse  rendered  sluggish  by  its  size  and  needing  to  be  roused. 
He  was  the  gadfly  sent  by  God  to  attack  it.  He  explains  why 
he  has  not  taken  part  in  public  life.  If  he  had  done  so,  he 
%yould  have  perished  without  benefiting  the  city,  because  no 
one  could  make  him  do  wrong  through  fear  of  death.  His  con- 
duct on  two  occasions  shows  this.] 

Well,  my  friends,  this,  together  it  may  be  with  other  things 
of  the  same  nature,  is  pretty  much  what  I  have  to  say  in  my 
defense.  There  may  be  some  one  among  you  who  will  be 
vexed  when  he  remeuibers  how,  even  in  a  less  important  trial 
than  this,  he  prayed  and  entreated  the  judges  to  acquit  him 
with  many  tears,  and  brought  forv/ard  his  children  and  many 
of  his  friends  and  relatives  in  Court,  in  order  to  appeal  to  your 
feelings  ;  and  then  finds  that  I  shall  do  none  of  these  things, 


THE  TIIIAL  OF  SOCRATES.  689 

tliougli  I  am  in  what  lie  would  tliink  tlie  supreme  clanger. 
Perhaps  he  will  harden  himself  against  me  when  he  notices 
this  :  it  may  make  him  angry,  and  he  may  give  his  vote  in 
anger.  If  it  is  so  with  any  of  you  —  I  do  not  suppose  that  it 
is,  but  in  case  it  should  be  so  —  I  think  that  1  should  answer 
him  reasonably  if  I  said  :  — 

"  My  friend,  I  have  kinsmen  too,  for,  in  the  words  of 
Homer,  'I  am  not  born  of  stocks  and  stones,'  but  of  woman  ;  " 
and  so,  Athenians,  I  have  kinsmen,  and  I  have  three  sons,  one 
of  them  a  lad,  and  the  other  two  still  children.  Yet  I  will  not 
bring  any  of  them  forward  before  you,  and  implore  you  to 
acquit  me. 

And  why  will  I  do  none  of  these  things?  It  is  not  from 
arrogance,  Athenians,  nor  because  I  hold  you  cheap  :  whether 
or  no  I  can  face  death  bravely  is  another  question  :  but  for  my 
own  credit,  and  for  your  credit,  and  for  the  credit  of  our  city,  I 
do  not  think  it  well,  at  my  age,  and  with  my  name,  to  do  any- 
thing of  that  kind.  Rightly  or  wrongly,  men  have  made  up 
their  minds  that  in  some  way  Socrates  is  different  from  the 
mass  of  mankind.  And  it  v/ill  be  a  shameful  thing  if  those  of 
you  who  are  thought  to  excel  in  wisdom,  or  in  bravery,  or  in 
any  other  virtue,  are  going  to  act  in  this  fashion.  I  have  often 
seen  men  with  a  reputation  behaving  in  a  strange  Avay  at  their 
trial,  as  if  they  thought  it  a  terrible  fate  to  be  killed,  and  as  if 
they  expected  to  live  forever,  if  you  did  not  put  them  to  death. 
Such  men  seem  to  me  to  bring  discredit  on  the  city  :  for  any 
stranger  M'ould  suppose  that  the  best  and  most  eminent  Athe- 
nians, who  are  selected  by  their  fellow-citizens  to  hold  office, 
and  for  other  honors,  are  no  better  than  women.  Those  of  you, 
Athenians,  who  have  any  reputation  at  all,  ought  not  to  do 
these  things  :  and  you  ought  not  to  allow  us  to  do  them  :  you 
should  show  that  you  will  be  much  more  merciless  to  men  who 
make  the  city  ridiculous  by  these  pitiful  pieces  of  acting,  than 
to  men  v,'ho  remain  quiet. 

But  apart  from  the  question  of  credit,  my  friends,  I  do  not 
think  that  it  is  right  to  entreat  the  judge  to  acquit  us,  or  to 
escape  condemnation  in  that  way.  It  is  our  duty  to  convince 
Jus  mind  by  reason.  He  does  not  sit  to  give  away  justice  to 
his  friends,  but  to  pronounce  judgment :  and  he  has  sworn  not 
to  favor  any  man  whom  he  would  like  to  favor,  but  to  decide 
questions  according  to  law.  And  therefore  we  ought  not  to 
teach  you  to  forswear  yourselves  ;  and  you  ought  not  to  allow 

14 


690  THE   TRIAL  OF   SOCRATES. 

yourselves  to  be  taught,  for  then  neither  you  nor  we  would  he 
acting  righteously.  Therefore,  Athenians,  do  not  require  me 
to  do  these  things,  for  I  believe  them  to  be  neither  good  nor 
just  nor  holy  ;  and,  more  especially,  do  not  ask  me  to  do  them 
to-day,  when  Meletus  is  prosecuting  me  for  impiety.  For  were 
I  to  be  successful,  and  to  prevail  on  you  by  my  prayers  to 
break  your  oaths,  I  should  be  clearly  teaching  you  to  believe 
that  there  are  no  gods ;  and  I  should  be  simply  accusing  my- 
self by  my  defense  of  not  believing  in  them.  But,  Athenians, 
that  is  very  far  from  the  truth.  I  do  believe  in  the  gods  as  no 
one  of  my  accusers  believes  in  them  :  and  to  you  and  to  God  I 
commit  my  cause  to  be  decided  as  is  best  for  you  and  for  me. 

{He  is  found  guilty  by  281  votes  to  220.) 

I  am  not  vexed  at  the  verdict  which  you  have  given,  Athe- 
nians, for  many  reasons.  I  expected  that  you  would  find  me 
guilty  ;  and  I  am  not  so  much  surprised  at  that,  as  at  the 
numbers  of  the  votes.  I,  certainly,  never  thought  that  the 
majority  against  me  would  have  been  so  narrow.  But  nov/  it 
seems  that  if  only  thirty  votes  had  changed  sides,  I  should  have 
escaped. 

[Meletus  proposes  the  penalty  of  death.  The  law  allows  a 
convicted  criminal  to  propose  an  alternative  penalty  instead. 
As  he  is  a  public  benefactor,  Socrates  thinks  that  he  ought  to 
have  a  public  maintenance  in  the  Prytaneum,  like  an  Olympic 
victor.  Seriously,  why  should  he  propose  a  penalty?  He  is 
sure  that  he  has  "done  no  wrong.  He  does  not  know  v/hether 
death  is  a  good  or  an  evil.  Why  should  he  propose  something 
that  he  knows  to  be  an  evil?  Indeed,  payment  of  a  fine  would 
be  no  evil,  but  then  he  has  no  money  to  pay  a  fine  with  ; 
perhaps  he  can  make  up  one  mina  (about  twenty  dollars) :  that 
is  his  proposal.  Or,  if  his  friends  wish  it,  he  offers  thirty 
minee,  and  his  friends  will  be  sureties  for  payment.] 

{He  is  condemned  to  death.) 

You  have  not  gained  very  much  time,  Athenians,  and,  as  the 
price  of  it,  you  will  have  an  evil  name  from  all  who  wish  to 
revile  the  city,  and  they  will  cast  in  your  teeth  that  you  put 
Socrates,  a  wise  man,  to  death.  For  they  will  certainly  call 
me  wise,  whether  I  am  wise  or  not,  when  they  want  to  reproach 
you.  If  you  would  have  waited  for  a  little  while,  your  wishes 
would  have  been  fulfilled  in  the  course  of  nature  ;  for  you  see 


THE   TRIAL   OF   SOCRATES.  691 

that  I  am  an  old  man,  far  advanced  in  years,  and  near  to  death. 
I  am  speaking  not  to  all  of  you,  only  to  those  who  have  voted 
for  my  death.  And  now  I  am  speaking  to  them  still.  Perhaps, 
my  friends,  you  think  that  I  have  been  defeated  because  I  was 
wanting  in  the  arguments  by  which  I  could  have  persuaded  you 
to  acquit  me,  if,  that  is,  I  had  thought  it  right  to  do  or  to  say 
anything  to  escape  punishment. 

It  is  not  so.  I  have  been  defeated  because  I  was  wanting, 
not  in  arguments,  but  in  overboldness  and  effrontery  :  because 
I  would  not  plead  before  you  as  you  would  have  liked  to  hear 
me  plead,  or  appeal  to  you  with  weeping  and  wailing,  or  say 
and  do  many  other  things,  which  I  maintain  are  unvv^orthy  of 
me,  but  which  you  have  been  accustomed  to  from  other  men. 
But  when  I  was  defending  myself,  I  thought  that  I  ought  not 
to  do  anything  unmanly  because  of  the  danger  which  I  ran,  and 
I  have  not  changed  my  mind  now.  I  would  very  much  rather 
defend  myself  as  I  did,  and  die,  than  as  you  would  have  had  me 
do,  and  live.  Both  in  a  lawsuit,  and  in  war,  there  are  some 
things  which  neither  I  nor  any  other  man  may  do  in  order  to 
escape  from  death.  In  battle  a  man  often  sees  that  he  may  at 
least  escape  from  death  by  throwing  down  his  arms  and  falling 
on  his  knees  before  the  pursuer  to  beg  for  his  life.  And  there 
are  many  other  ways  of  avoiding  death  in  every  danger,  if  a  man 
Avill  not  scruple  to  say  and  to  do  anything. 

But,  my  friends,  I  think  that  it  is  a  much  harder  thing  to 
escape  from  wickedness  than  from  death  ;  for  wickedness  is 
swifter  than  death.  And  now  I,  who  am  old  and  slow,  have 
been  overtaken  by  the  slower  pursuer  :  and  my  accusers,  who 
are  clever  and  swift,  have  been  overtaken  by  the  swifter  pur- 
suer, which  is  wickedness.  And  now  I  shall  go  hence,  sen- 
tenced by  you  to  death  ;  and  they  will  go  hence,  sentenced  by 
truth  to  receive  the  penalty  of  wickedness  and  evil.  And  I 
abide  by  this  award  as  well  as  they.  Perhaps  it  was  right 
for  these  things  to  be  so:  and  I  think  that  they  are  fairly 
measured. 

And  now  I  wish  to  prophesy  to  you,  Athenians  who  have 
condemned  me.  For  I  am  going  to  die,  and  that  is  the  time 
when  men  have  most  prophetic  power.  And  I  prophesy  to  you 
who  have  sentenced  me  to  death,  that  a  far  severer  punishment 
than  you  have  inflicted  on  me,  will  surely  overtake  you  as  soon 
as  I  am  dead.  You  have  done  this  thing,  thinking  that  you  will 
be  relieved  from  having  to  give  an  account  of  your  lives.     But  i 


692  THE  TRIAL  OF  SOCRATES. 

Hay  that  the  result  will  be  very  different  from  that.  Tiiere  will 
be  more  men  who  will  call  you  to  account,  whom  I  have  held 
back,  and  whom  you  did  not  sec.  And  they  will  be  harder 
masters  to  you  than  I  have  been,  for  they  will  be  younger,  and 
3'ou  will  be  more  angry  with  them.  For  if  you  think  that  you 
will  restrain  men  from  reproaching  you  for  your  evil  lives  by 
putting  them  to  death,  you  are  very  much  mistaken.  That 
Avay  of  escape  is  hardly  possible,  and  it  is  not  a  good  one.  It 
is  much  better,  and  much  easier,  not  to  silence  reproaches,  but 
to  make  yourselves  as  perfect  as  you  can.  This  is  my  parting 
prophecy  to  you  who  have  condemned  me. 

[Having  sternly  rebuked  those  who  have  condemned  him,  he 
bids  those  who  have  acquitted  him  to  be  of  good  cheer.  No 
liarm  can  come  to  a  good  man  in  life  or  in  death.  Death  is 
either  an  eternal  and  dreamless  sleep,  wherein  there  is  no  sen- 
sation at  all  ;  or  it  is  a  journey  to  another  and  better  world, 
where  are  the  famous  men  of  old.  In  either  case  it  is  not  an 
evil,  but  a  good.] 

And  you  too,  judges,  must  face  death  with  a  good  courage, 
and  believe  this  as  a  truth,  that  no  evil  can  happen  to  a  good 
man,  either  in  life,  or  after  death.  His  fortunes  are  not  neg- 
lected by  the  gods  ;  and  w^hat  has  come  to  me  to-day  has  not 
come  by  chance.  I  am  persuaded  that  it  was  better  for  me  to 
die  now,  and  to  be  released  from  trouble  ;  and  that  Avas  the 
reason  v/liy  the  sign  never  turned  me  back.  And  so  I  am 
liardly  angry  with  my  accusers,  or  with  those  who  liave  con- 
demned me  to  die.  Yet  it  was  not  with  this  mind  that  they 
accused  me  and  condemned  me,  but  meaning  to  do  me  an 
injury.     So  far  I  may  find  fault  with  them. 

Yet  I  have  one  request  to  make  of  them.  When  my  sons 
grow  up,  visit  them  with  punishment,  my  friends,  and  vex 
them  in  the  same  way  that  I  have  vexed  you,  if  they  seem  to 
you  to  care  for  riches,  or  for  any  other  thing,  before  virtue  : 
and  if  they  think  that  they  are  something,  when  they  are 
nothing  at  all,  reproach  them,  as  I  have  reproached  you,  for 
not  caring  for  what  they  should,  and  for  thinking  that  they  are 
great  men  when  in  fact  they  are  worthless.  And  if  you  will 
do  this,  I  myself  and  my  sons  will  have  received  our  deserts  at 
your  hands. 

But  now  the  time  has  come,  and  we  must  go  hence  ;  I  to  die, 
and  you  to  live.  Whether  life  or  death  is  better  is  known  to 
God,  and  to  God  onlv. 


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ALCIBIADES*  ACCOUNT  OF  SOCRATES.  693 

ALCIBIADES'  ACCOUNT   OF   SOCRATES. 

(From  Plato's  "  Symposium  "  :  translated  by  Tercy  Bysshe  Shelley.) 

[Alcibiades  was  a  celebrated  Athenian  politician  and  general ;  born  about 
B.C.  450.  He  was  brought  up  in  the  house  of  Pericles,  and  lived  on  terms  of 
intimacy  with  Socrates.  A  man  of  great  personal  charm  and  extraordinary  abil- 
ity, he  soon  became  a  popular  leader  ;  but  being  involved  in  a  suspicion  of  sacri- 
lege, fled  to  Sparta  and  then  to  Persia.  Recalled  by  the  Athenian  populace,  and 
intrusted  with  the  command  of  their  fleet,  he  won  several  important  battles 
fur  ihem,  but  was  superseded  for  a  defeat  of  his  general  at  Notium  b.c.  407. 
After  the  fall  of  Athens  he  took  refuge  with  the  Persian  satrap  Pharnabazus,  in 
Fhrygia,  where  he  was  treacherously  murdered  b.c.  404.] 

I  WILL  begin  the  praise  of  Socrates  by  comparing  him  to  a 
certain  statue.  Perhaps  he  will  think  that  this  statue  is  intro- 
duced for  the  sake  of  ridicule,  but  I  assure  you  it  is  necessary 
for  the  illustration  of  truth.  I  assert,  then,  that  Socrates  is 
exactly  like  those  Siienuses  that  sit  in  the  sculptors'  shops,  and 
which  are  holding  carved  flutes  or  pipes,  but  which  when 
divided  in  two  are  found  to  contain  the  images  of  the  gods. 
I  assert  that  Socrates  is  like  the  satyr  Marsyas.  That  your 
form  and  appearance  are  like  these  satyrs,  I  think  that  even 
you  will  not  venture  to  deny ;  and  how  like  you  are  to  them 
in  all  other  things,  now  hear.  Are  you  not  scornful  and  petu- 
lant? If  you  deny  this,  I  Vvill  bring  witnesses.  Are  you  not 
a  piper,  and  far  more  wonderful  a  one  than  he  ?  For  Marsyas, 
and  whoever  now  pipes  the  music  that  he  taught  (for  it  was 
Marsyas  who  taught  Olympus  his  music),  enchants  men  through 
the  power  of  the  mouth.  For  if  any  musician,  be  he  skillful  or 
not,  awakens  this  music,  it  alone  enables  him  to  retain  the 
minds  of  men,  and  from  the  divinity  of  its  nature  makes  evident 
those  who  are  in  want  of  the  gods  and  initiation  :  you  differ 
only  from  Marsyas  in  this  circumstance,  that  you  effect  with- 
out instruments,  by  mere  words,  all  that  he  can  do.  For  when 
we  hear  Pericles,  or  any  other  accomplished  orator,  deliver  a 
discourse,  no  one,  as  it  were,  cares  anything  about  it.  But 
when  any  one  hears  you,  or  even  your  words  related  by  another, 
though  ever  so  rude  and  unskillful  a  speaker,  be  that  person  a 
woman,  man,  or  child,  we  are  struck  and  retained,  as  it  were, 
by  the  discourse  clinging  to  our  mind. 

If  I  was  not  afraid  that  I  am  a  great  deal  too  drunk,  I 
would  confirm  to  you  by  an  oath  the  strange  effects  which  I 


694  ALCIBIADES*  ACCOUNT  OF  SOCRATES. 

assure  you  I  have  suffered  from  his  words,  and  suffer  still ;  for 
when  I  hear  him  speak  my  heart  leaps  up  far  more  than  the 
hearts  of  those  who  celebrate  the  Corybantic  mysteries;  my 
tears  are  poured  out  as  he  talks,  a  thing  I  have  often  seen 
happen  to  many  others  besides  myself.  I  have  heard  Pericles 
and  other  excellent  orators,  and  have  been  pleased  with  their 
discourses,  but  I  suffered  nothing  of  this  kind;  nor  was  my 
soul  ever  on  those  occasions  disturbed  and  filled  with  self- 
reproach,  as  if  it  v>^ere  slavishly  laid  prostrate.  But  this 
Marsyas  here  has  often  affected  me  in  the  way  I  describe,  until 
the  life  which  1  lived  seemed  hardly  worth  living.  Do  not 
deny  it,  Socrates ;  for  I  know  well  that  if  even  now  I  chose  to 
listen  to  you,  I  could  not  resist,  but  should  again  suffer  the 
same  effects.  For,  my  friends,  he  forces  me  to  confess  that 
while  I  myself  am  still  in  need  of  many  things,  I  neglect  my 
own  necessities  and  attend  to  those  of  the  Athenians.  I  stop 
my  ears,  therefore,  as  from  the  Sirens,  and  flee  away  as  fast  as 
possible,  that  I  may  not  sit  down  beside  him,  and  grow  old  in 
listening  to  his  talk.  For  this  man  has  reduced  me  to  feel  the 
sentiment  of  shame,  v/hich  I  imagine  no  one  would  readily 
believe  was  in  me.  For  I  feel  iji  his  presence  my  incapacity  of 
refuting  what  he  says  or  of  refusing  to  do  that  which  he 
directs  :  but  when  I  depart  from  him  the  glory  v/hich  the  mul- 
titude confers  overwhelms  me.  I  escape  therefore  and  hide 
myself  from  him,  and  when  I  see  him  I  am  overwhelmed  with 
humiliation,  because  I  have  neglected  to  do  what  I  have  con- 
fessed to  him  ought  to  be  done :  and  often  and  often  have  I 
wished  that  he  were  no  longer  to  be  seen  among  men.  But  if 
that  were  to  happen  I  well  know  that  I  should  suffer  far 
greater  pain ;  so  that  where  I  can  turn,  or  what  I  can  do  with 
this  man  I  know  not.  All  this  have  I  and  many  others  suffered 
from  the  pipings  of  this  satyr. 

And  observe  how  like  he  is  to  what  I  said,  and  what  a 
wonderful  power  he  possesses.  Know  that  there  is  not  one  of 
you  who  is  aware  of  the  real  nature  of  Socrates ;  but  since  I 
have  begun,  I  will  make  him  plain  to  you.  You  observe  how 
passionately  Socrates  affects  the  intimacy  of  those  who  are 
beautiful,  and  how  ignorant  he  professes  himself  to  be,  appear- 
ances in  themselves  excessively  Silenic.  This,  my  friends,  is 
the  external  form  with  which,  like  one  of  the  sculptured  Sileni, 
he  has  clothed  himself;  for  if  you  open  him  you  will  find 
within  admirable  temperance  and  wisdom.     For  he  cares  not 


ALCIBIADES'  ACCOUNT  OF  SOCRATES.  695 

for  mere  beauty,  but  despises  more  than  any  one  can  imagine 
all  external  possessions,  whether  it  be  beauty,  or  wealth,  or 
glory,  or  any  other  thing  for  which  the  multitude  felicitates 
the  possessor,  lie  esteems  these  things,  and  us  who  honor 
them,  as  nothing,  and  lives  among  men,  making  all  the  objects 
of  their  admiration  the  playthings  of  his  irony.  But  I  know 
not  if  any  one  of  you  have  ever  seen  the  divine  images  which 
are  within,  when  he  has  been  opened,  and  is  serious.  I  have 
seen  them,  and  they  are  so  supremely  beautiful,  so  golden,  so 
divine,  and  wonderful,  that  everything  that  Socrates  commands 
surely  ought  to  be  obeyed,  even  like  the  voice  of  a  god. 


At  one  time  we  were  fellow-soldiers,  and  had  our  mess 
together  in  the  camp  before  Potideea.  Socrates  there  overcame 
not  only  me,  but  every  one  beside,  in  endurance  of  evils  :  when, 
as  often  happens  in  a  campaign,  we  were  reduced  to  few  provi- 
sions, there  were  none  who  could  sustain  hunger  like  Socrates  ; 
and  when  we  had  plenty,  he  alone  seemed  to  enjoy  our  military 
fare.  He  never  drank  much  willingly,  but  when  he  was  com- 
pelled, he  conquered  all  even  in  that  to  which  he  was  least 
accustomed  :  and,  what  is  most  astonishing,  no  person  ever  saw 
Socrates  drunk  either  then  or  at  any  other  time.  In  the  depth 
of  winter  (and  the  winters  there  are  excessively  rigid)  he  sus- 
tained calmly  incredible  hardships  :  and  amongst  other  things, 
whilst  the  frost  was  intolerably  severe,  and  no  one  went  out  of 
their  tents,  or  if  they  went  out,  wrapped  themselves  up  care- 
fully, and  put  fleeces  under  their  feet,  and  bound  their  legs 
with  hairy  skins,  Socrates  went  out  only  with  the  same  cloak 
on  that  he  usually  wore,  and  walked  barefoot  upon  the  ice  : 
more  easily,  indeed,  than  those  who  had  sandaled  themselves 
so  delicately :  so  that  the  soldiers  thought  that  he  did  it  to 
mock  their  want  of  fortitude.  It  would  indeed  be  worth  while 
to  commemorate  all  that  this  brave  man  did  and  endured  in 
that  expedition.  In  one  instance  he  was  seen  early  in  the 
morning,  standing  in  one  place,  wrapt  in  meditation ;  and  as 
he  seemed  unable  to  unravel  the  subject  of  his  thoughts,  he 
still  continued  to  stand  as  inquiring  and  discussing  within  him- 
self, and  when  noon  came,  the  soldiers  observed  him,  and  said 
to  one  another  —  "  Socrates  has  been  standing  there  thinking, 
ever  since  the  morning."  At  last  some  lonians  came  to  the 
spot,  and  having  supped,  as  it  was  summer,  they  lay  down  to 


696  ALCIBIADES'  ACCOUNT  OF  SOCRATES. 

sleep  in  the  cool :  they  observed  that  Socrates  conthiued  to 
stand  there  the  whole  night  until  morning,  and  that,  when  the 
sun  rose,  he  saluted  it  with  a  prayer  and  departed. 

I  ought  not  to  omit  what  Socrates  is  in  battle.  For  in 
that  battle  after  which  the  generals  decreed  to  me  the  prize  of 
courage,  Socrates  alone  of  all  men  was  the  savior  of  my  life, 
standing  by  me  when  I  had  fallen  and  was  wounded,  and  pre- 
serving both  myself  and  my  arms  from  the  hands  of  the  enemy. 
On  that  occasion  I  entreated  the  generals  to  decree  the  prize, 
as  it  was  most  due,  to  him.  And  this,  O  Socrates,  you  cannot 
deny,  that  when  the  generals,  wishing  to  conciliate  a  person  of 
my  rank,  desired  to  give  me  the  prize,  you  were  far  more  ear- 
nestly desirous  than  the  generals  that  this  glory  should  be 
attributed  not  to  yourself,  but  me. 

But  to  see  Socrates  when  our  army  was  defeated  and  scat- 
tered in  flight  at  Delium  was  a  spectacle  worthy  to  behold. 
On  that  occasion  I  was  among  the  cavalry,  and  he  on  foot, 
heavily  armed.  After  the  total  rout  of  our  troops,  he  and 
Laches  retreated  together;  I  came  up  by  cliance,  and  seeing 
them,  bade  them  be  of  good  cheer,  for  that  I  would  not  leave 
them.  As  I  was  on  horseback,  and  therefore  less  occupied  by 
a  regard  of  my  own  situation,  I  could  better  observe  than  at 
Potidaia  the  beautiful  spectacle  exhibited  by  Socrates  on  this 
emergency.  How  superior  was  he  to  Laches  in  presence  of 
mind  and  courage  I  Your  representation  of  him  on  the  stage, 
O  Aristophanes,  was  not  wholly  unlike  his  real  self  on  this 
occasion,  for  he  walked  and  darted  his  regards  around  with  a 
majestic  composure,  looking  tranquilly  both  on  his  friends  and 
enemies  :  so  that  it  was  evident  to  every  one,  even  from  afar, 
that  whoever  should  venture  to  attack  him  would  encounter  a 
desperate  resistance.  He  and  his  companions  thus  departed  in 
safety :  for  those  who  are  scattered  in  flight  are  pursued  and 
killed,  whilst  men  hesitate  to  touch  those  who  exhibit  such  a 
countenance  as  that  of  Socrates  even  in  defeat. 


A  DIALOGUE  FROM  PLATO.  697 

A  DIALOGUE  FROM   PLATO. ^ 

Bt  AUSTIN  D0C30X. 

[For  biographical  sketch,  see  page  501.] 

"  Le  temps  le  mieiix  employe  est  ce'ui  qiCon  perd." 

— Claude  Tiluek. 

I'd  "  read  "  three  hours.     Both  notes  and  text 

Were  fast  a  mist  becoming ; 
In  bounced  a  vagrant  bee,  perplexed, 

And  filled  the  room  -with  humming, 

Then  out.     The  casement's  leafage  sways, 

And,  parted  light,  discloses 
Miss  Di.,  with  hat  and  book,  —  a  maze 

Of  muslin  mixed  with  roses. 

"  You're  reading  Greek ? "     "I  am  —  and  you ? '' 

"  0,  mine's  a  mere  romancer  I " 
'•'  So  Plato  is."     "  Then  read  him  —  do ; 

And  I'll  read  mine  in  answer." 

I  read.     "My  Plato  (Plato,  too,— 

That  wisdom  thus  should  harden !) 
Declares  *  blue  eyes  look  doubly  blue 

Beneath  a  Dolly  Varden.'" 

She  smiled.     "My  book  in  turn  avers 

(No  author's  name  is  stated) 
That  sometimes  those  Philosophers 

Are  sadly  mis-translated." 

"  But  hear,  —  the  next's  in  stronger  style : 

The  Cynic  School  asserted 
That  two  red  lips  which  part  and  smile 

May  not  be  controverted ! " 

She  smiled  once  more  —  "  My  book,  I  find, 

Observes  some  modern  doctors 
AVould  make  the  Cynics  out  a  kind 

Of  album-verse  concocters." 

^  From  '•  Coll -cted  Pooms."     By  ponuigsioii  of  Kogan  Paul,  TrL'uch, 
Triihn- r  &  0^;.     8vo.,  price  6'. 


698     DESTRUCTION   OF  THE   ATHENIANS   AT   SYRACUSE. 

Then  I  —  "  Why  not  ?     '  Ephesian  law, 

No  less  than  time's  tradition, 
Enjoined  fair  speech  on  all  who  saw 

Diana's  apparition.' " 

She  blushed  —  this  time.     "  If  Plato's  page 

No  wiser  precept  teaches, 
Then  I'd  renounce  that  doubtful  sage, 

And  walk  to  Burnham  Beeches." 

"Agreed,"  I  said.     "For  Socrates 

(I  find  he  too  is  talking) 
Thinks  Learning  can't  remain  at  ease 

While  Beauty  goes  a  walking." 

She  read  no  more.     I  leapt  the  sill  : 

The  sequel's  scarce  essential  — 
Nay,  more  than  this,  I  hold  it  still 

Profoundly  confidential. 


THE  DESTRUCTION  OF  THE  ATHENIANS  AT 
SYRACUSE.  1 

By  THUCYDIDES. 
(Translated  by  Benjamin  Jowett.) 

Demosthenes,  Menander,  and  Euthydemus,  wlio  had  gone 
on  board  the  Athenian  fleet  to  take  the  command,  now  quitted 
their  own  station,  and  proceeded  straight  to  the  closed  mouth  of 
the  harbor,  intending  to  force  their  way  to  the  open  sea  Avhere  a 
passage  was  still  left. 

The  Syracusans  and  their  allies  had  already  put  out  with 
nearly  the  same  number  of  ships  as  before.  A  detachment  of 
them  guarded  the  entrance  of  the  harbor ;  the  remainder  were 
disposed  all  round  it  in  such  a  manner  that  they  might  fall  on 
the  Athenians  from  every  side  at  once,  and  that  their  land 
forces  might  at  the  same  time  be  able  to  cooperate  wdierever  the 
ships  retreated  to  the  shore.  Sicanus  and  Agatharchus  com- 
manded the  Syracusan  fleet,  each  of  them  a  vmig  ;  Pythen  and 
the  Corinthians  occupied  the  center.  When  the  Athenians 
approached  the  closed  mouth  of  the  harbor  the  violence  of  their 

*  By  permission  of  the  Master  of  Balliol  College. 


DESTRUCTION  OF   THE   ATHENIANS  AT  SYRACUSE.     699 

onset  overpowered  the  ships  which  were  stationed  there  ;  they 
then  attempted  to  loosen  the  fastenings.  Whereupon  from  all 
sides  the  Syracusans  and  their  allies  came  bearing  down  upon 
them,  and  the  conflict  was  no  longer  confined  to  the  entrance, 
but  extended  throughout  the  harbor.  No  previous  engagement 
had  been  so  fierce  and  obstinate.  Great  was  the  eagerness 
with  which  the  rowers  on  both  sides  rushed  upon  their  enemies 
whenever  the  word  of  command  was  given  ;  and  keen  was  the 
contest  between  the  pilots  as  they  maneuvered  one  against 
another.  The  marines  too  were  full  of  anxiety  that,  when  ship 
struck  ship,  the  service  on  deck  should  not  fall  short  of  the 
rest ;  every  one  in  the  place  assigned  to  him  was  eager  to  be 
foremost  among  his  fellows.  Many  vessels  meeting  — and  never 
did  so  many  fight  in  so  small  a  space,  for  the  two  fleets  together 
amounted  to  nearly  two  hundred  —  they  were  seldom  able  to 
strike  in  the  regular  manner,  because  they  had  no  opportunity 
of  first  retiring  or  breaking  the  line ;  they  generally  fouled  one 
another  as  ship  dashed  against  sliip  in  the  hurry  of  flight  or 
pursuit.  All  the  time  that  another  vessel  was  bearing  down, 
the  men  on  deck  poured  showers  of  javelins  and  arrows  and 
stones  upon  the  enemy  ;  and  when  the  two  closed,  the  marines 
fought  hand  to  hand,  and  endeavored  to  board.  In  many  places, 
owing  to  the  want  of  room,  they  who  had  struck  another  found 
that  they  were  struck  themselves  :  often  tv/o  or  even  more 
vessels  v/ere  unavoidably  entangled  about  one,  and  the  pilots 
had  to  make  plans  of  attack  and  defense,  not  against  one 
adversary  only,  but  against  several  coming  from  different  sides. 
The  crash  of  so  many  ships  dashing  one  against  another  took 
away  the  wits  of  the  sailors,  and  made  it  impossible  to  hear  the 
boatswains,  whose  voices  in  both  fleets  rose  high,  as  they  gave 
directions  to  the  rowers,  or  cheered  them  on  in  the  excitement 
of  the  struggle.  On  the  Athenian  side  they  were  shouting  to 
their  men  that  they  must  force  a  passage  and  seize  the  opportu- 
nity now  or  never  of  returning  in  safety  to  their  native  land. 
To  the  Syracusans  and  their  allies  was  represented  the  glory 
of  preventing  the  escape  of  their  enemies,  and  of  a  victory  by 
which  every  man  would  exalt  the  honor  of  his  own  city.  The 
commanders  too,  when  they  saw  any  ship  backing  water  with- 
out necessity,  would  call  the  captain  by  his  name,  and  ask,  of 
the  Athenians,  whether  they  were  retreating  because  they 
expected  to  be  more  at  home  upon  the  land  of  their  bitterest 
foes  than  upon  that  sea  which  had  been  their  own  so  long  ;  on 


700     DESTRUCTION  OF  THE  ATHENIANS  AT  SYRACUSE. 

the  Syracusan  side,  whetlier,  wlien  they  knew  xierfectly  well 
that  the  Atlienians  were  only  eager  to  find  some  means  of  flight, 
they  would  themselves  fly  from  the  fugitives. 

While  the  naval  engagement  hung  in  the  balance,  the  two 
armies  on  shore  had  great  trial  and  conflict  of  soul.  The 
Sicilian  soldier  was  animated  by  the  hope  of  increasing  the 
glory  which  he  had  already  won,  while  the  invader  was  tor- 
mented by  the  fear  that  his  fortunes  might  sink  lower  still. 
The  last  chance  of  the  Athenians  lay  in  their  ships,  and  their 
anxiety  was  dreadful.  The  fortune  of  the  battle  varied  ;  and 
it  was  not  possible  that  the  spectators  on  the  shore  should  all 
receive  the  same  impression  of  it.  Being  quite  close,  and  hav- 
ing different  points  of  view,  they  would  some  of  them  see  their 
own  sliips  victorious ;  their  courage  would  then  revive  and 
they  would  earnestly  call  upon  the  gods  not  to  take  from  them 
their  hope  of  deliverance.  But  others,  Avho  saw  tlieir  ships 
worsted,  cried  and  shrieked  aloud,  and  were  by  the  sight  alone 
more  utterly  unnerved  than  the  defeated  combatants  themselves. 
Others  again,  who  had  fixed  their  gaze  on  some  part  of  the 
struggle  v^'hich  was  undecided,  were  in  a  state  of  excitement 
still  more  terrible ;  they  kept  swaying  their  bodies  to  and  fro 
in  an  agony  of  hope  and  fear  as  the  stubborn  conflict  went  on 
and  on  ;  for  at  every  instant  they  v/ere  all  but  saved  or  all  but 
lost.  And  while  the  strife  hung  in  the  balance  you  might  hear 
in  the  Athenian  army  at  once  lamentation,  shouting,  cries  of 
victor}'-  or  defeat,  and  all  the  various  sounds  which  are  wrung 
from  a  great  host  in  extremity  of  danger.  Net  less  agonizing 
were  the  feelings  of  those  on  board.  At  length  the  Syracusans 
and  their  allies,  after  a  protracted  struggle,  put  the  Athenians 
to  flight,  and  triumphantly  bearing  down  upon  them,  and 
encouraging  one  another  with  loud  cries  and  exhortations, 
drove  them  to  land.  Then  that  part  of  the  navy  which  had 
not  been  taken  in  the  deep  water  fell  back  in  confusion  to  the 
shore,  and  the  crews  rushed  out  of  the  ships  into  the  camp. 
And  the  land  forces,  no  longer  now  divided  in  feeling,  but 
uttering  one  universal  groan  of  intolerable  anguish,  ran,  some 
of  them  to  save  the  ships,  others  to  defend  what  remained  of 
the  wall ;  but  the  greater  number  began  to  look  to  themselves 
and  to  their  own  safety.  Never  had  there  been  a  greater  panic 
in  an  Athenian  army  than  at  that  moment.  They  now  suffered 
what  they  had  done  to  others  at  Pylos.  For  at  Pylos  the 
Lacedajmonians,  when   they  saw  their  ships  destroyed,  kncAV 


DESTRUCTION   OF  THE  ATHENIANS   AT  SYRACUSE.     701 

that  their  friends  wlio  had  crossed  over  into  the  island  of  Sphac- 
teria  were  lost  with  them.  And  so  now  the  Athenians,  after 
the  rout  of  their  fleet,  knew  that  they  had  no  Iiope  of  saving 
themselves  by  land  unless  events  took  some  extraordinary  turn. 

Thus,  after  a  fierce  battle  and  a  great  destruction  of  ships 
and  men  on  both  sides,  the  Syracusans  and  their  allies  gained 
the  victory.  They  gathered  up  the  wrecks  and  bodies  of  the 
dead,  and  sailing  back  to  the  city,  erected  a  trophy.  Tlic 
Athenians,  overwhelmed  by  their  misery,  never  so  much  as 
thought  of  recovering  their  wrecks  or  of  asking  leave  to  collect 
their  dead.  Their  intention  was  to  retreat  that  very  night. 
Demosthenes  came  to  Nicias  and  proposed  that  they  should 
once  more  man  their  remaining  vessels  and  endeavor  to  force 
the  passage  at  daybreak,  saying  that  they  had  more  ships  fit  for 
service  than  the  enemy.  For  the  Athenian  fleet  still  numbered 
sixty,  but  the  enemy  had  less  than  fifty.  Nicias  approved  of 
Iiis  proposal,  and  they  v/ould  have  manned  the  ships,  but  the 
sailors  refused  to  embark;  for  they  were  paralyzed  by  their 
defeat,  and  had  no  longer  any  hope  of  succeeding.  So  the 
Athenians  all  made  up  their  minds  to  escape  by  land. 

Ilermocrates  the  Syracusan  suspected  their  intention,  and 
dreading  what  might  happen  if  their  vast  arm}-,  retreating  by 
land  and  settling  somewhere  in  Sicily,  should  choose  to  renew 
the  war,  he  went  to  the  authorities,  and  represented  to  them 
that  they  ought  not  to  allow  the  Athenians  to  w^ithdraw  by 
night  (mentioning  his  own  suspicion  of  their  intentions),  but 
that  all  the  Syracusans  and  their  allies  should  march  out  before 
them,  wall  up  the  roads,  and  occupy  the  passes  with  a  guard. 
They  thought  very  much  as  he  did,  and  wanted  to  carry  out  his 
plan,  but  doubted  whether  their  men,  who  w^ere  too  glad  to 
repose  after  a  great  battle,  and  in  time  of  festival  —  for  there 
happened  on  that  very  day  to  be  a  sacrifice  to  Heracles  —  could 
be  induced  to  obey.  Most  of  them,  in  the  exultation  of  victor}', 
were  drinking  and  keeping  holiday,  and  at  such  a  time  how  could 
they  ever  be  expected  to  take  up  arms  and  go  forth  at  the  order 
of  the  generals  ?  On  these  grounds  the  authorities  decided  that 
the  thing  was  impossible.  Whereupon  Ilermocrates  himself, 
fearing  iest  the  Athenians  should  gain  a  start  and  quietly 
pass  the  most  difficult  places  in  the  night,  contrived  the  follow- 
ing plan :  when  it  was  growing  dark  he  sent  certain  of  his  own 
acquaintances,  accompanied  by  a  few  horsemen,  to  the  Athenian 
camp.    They  rode  up  within  earshot,  and  pretending  to  be  friends 


702     DESTRUCTION  OF  THE   ATHENIANS  AT  SYRACUSE. 

(there  were  known  to  be  men  in  the  city  who  gave  information 
to  Nicias  of  what  went  on)  called  to  some  of  the  soldiers,  and 
bade  them  tell  him  not  to  withdraw  his  army  during  the  night, 
for  the  Syracusans  were  guarding  the  roads ;  he  should  make 
preparation  at  leisure  and  retire  by  day.  Having  delivered 
their  message  they  departed,  and  those  who  had  heard  them 
informed  the  Athenian  generals. 

On  receiving  this  message,  which  they  supposed  to  be  genu- 
ine, they  remained  during  the  night.  And  having  once  given 
up  the  intention  of  starting  immediately,  they  decided  to  re- 
main during  the  next  day,  that  the  soldiers  might,  as  well  as 
they  could,  put  together  their  baggage  in  the  most  convenient 
form,  and  depart,  taking  with  them  the  bare  necessaries  of  life, 
but  nothing  else. 

Meanwhile  the  Syracusans  and  Gylippus,  going  forth  before 
them  with  their  land  forces,  blocked  the  roads  in  the  country 
by  which  the  Athenians  were  likely  to  pass,  guarded  the  fords 
of  the  rivers  and  streams,  and  posted  themselves  at  the  best 
points  for  receiving  and  stopping  them.  Their  sailors  rowed 
up  to  the  beach  and  dragged  away  the  Athenian  ships.  The 
Athenians  themselves  burnt  a  few  of  them,  as  they  had  intended, 
but  the  rest  the  Syracusans  towed  away,  unmolested  and  at 
their  leisure,  from  the  places  where  they  had  severally  run 
aground,  and  conveyed  them  to  the  city. 

On  the  third  day  after  the  sea  fight,  when  Nicias  and 
Demosthenes  thought  that  their  preparations  were  complete, 
the  army  began  to  move.  They  were  in  a  dreadful  condition  ; 
not  only  was  there  the  great  fact  that  they  had  lost  their  whole 
fleet,  and  instead  of  their  expected  triumph  had  brought  the 
utmost  peril  upon  Athens  as  well  as  upon  themselves,  but  also 
the  sights  which  presented  themselves  as  they  quitted  the  camp 
were  painful  to  every  eye  and  mind.  The  dead  were  unburied, 
and  when  any  one  saw  the  body  of  a  friend  lying  on  the  ground 
he  was  smitten  with  sorrow  and  dread,  while  the  sick  or  wounded 
who  still  survived  but  had  to  be  left  were  even  a  greater  trial  to 
the  living,  and  more  to  be  pitied  than  those  who  were  gone. 
Their  prayers  and  lamentations  drove  their  companions  to  dis- 
traction ;  they  would  beg  that  they  might  be  taken  with  them, 
and  call  by  name  any  friend  or  relation  whom  they  saw  pass- 
ing ;  they  would  hang  upon  their  departing  comrades  and 
follow  as  far  as  they  could,  and  when  their  limbs  and  strength 
failed  them  and  they  dropped  behind  many  were  the  impreca- 


DESTRUCTIOX  OF  THE  ATHENIANS  AT   SYRACUSE.     703 

tions  and  cries  which  they  uttered.  So  that  the  whole  array 
was  ill  tears,  and  such  was  their  despair  that  they  could  hardly 
make  up  their  minds  to  stir,  although  they  were  leaving  an 
enemy's  country,  having  suffered  calamities  too  great  for  tears 
already,  and  dreading  miseries  yet  greater  in  the  unknown 
future.  There  was  also  a  general  feeling  of  shame  and  self- 
reproach,  —  indeed  they  seemed,  not  like  an  army,  but  like  the 
fugitive  population  of  a  city  captured  after  a  siege  ;  and  of  a 
great  city  too.  For  the  whole  multitude  who  were  marching 
together  numbered  not  less  than  forty  thousand.  Each  of 
them  took  with  him  anything  he  could  carry  which  was  likely 
to  be  of  use.  Even  the  heavy-armed  and  cavalry,  contrary  to 
their  practice  when  under  arms,  conveyed  about  their  persons 
their  own  food,  some  because  they  had  no  attendants,  others 
because  they  could  not  trust  them ;  for  they  had  long  been 
deserting,  and  most  of  them  had  gone  off  all  at  once.  Nor  was 
the  food  which  they  carried  sufficient ;  for  the  supplies  of  the 
camp  had  failed.  Their  disgrace  and  the  universality  of  the 
misery,  although  there  might  be  some  consolation  in  tlie  very 
community  of  suffering,  was  nevertheless  at  that  moment  hard 
to  bear,  especially  when  they  remembered  from  what  pomp 
and  splendor  they  had  fallen  into  their  present  low  estate. 
Never  had  an  Hellenic  army  experienced  such  a  reverse.  They 
had  come  intending  to  enslave  others,  and  they  were  going 
away  in  fear  lest  they  would  be  themselves  enslaved.  Instead 
of  the  prayers  and  hymns  with  which  they  had  put  to  sea,  they 
were  now  departing  amid  appeals  to  heaven  of  another  sort. 
They  were  no  longer  sailors  but  landsmen,  depending,  not  upon 
their  fleet,  but  upon  their  infantry.  Yet  in  face  of  the  great 
danger  which  still  threatened  them  all  these  things  appeared 
endurable. 

Nicias,  seeing  the  army  disheartened  at  their  terrible  fall, 
went  along  the  ranks  and  encouraged  and  consoled  them  as 
well  as  he  could.  In  his  fervor  he  raised  his  voice  as  he 
passed  from  one  to  another  and  spoke  louder  and  louder,  desir- 
ing that  the  benefit  of  his  words  might  reach  as  far  as  possible. 

"  Even  now,  Athenians  and  allies,  we  must  hope  :  men  have 
been  delivered  out  of  worse  straits  than  these,  and  I  would  not 
have  you  judge  yourselves  too  severely  on  account  either  of 
the  reverses  which  you  have  sustained  or  of  your  present  unde- 
served miseries.  I  too  am  as  weak  as  any  of  you  ;  for  I  am 
quite  prostrated  by  my  disease,  as  you  see.     And  although 


70 i     DESTRUCTION  OF   THE  ATHENIANS  AT  SYRACUSE. 

there  was  a  time  when  I  might  have  been  thought  equal  to  the 
best  of  you  in  the  happiness  of  my  private  and  public  life,  I 
am  now  in  as  great  danger,  and  as  much  at  the  mercy  of  for- 
tune as  the  meanest.  Yet  my  days  have  been  passed  in  the 
performance  of  many  a  religious  duty,  and  of  many  a  just  and 
blameless  action.  Therefore  my  hope  of  the  future  remains 
unshaken,  and  our  calamities  do  not  aj)pall  me  as  they  might. 
V/ho  knows  that  they  may  not  be  lightened?  For  our  ene- 
mies liave  had  their  full  sliare  of  success,  and  if  our  expedition 
provoked  the  jealousy  of  any  God,  by  this  time  we  have  been 
punished  enough.  Others  ere  now  have  attacked  their  neigh- 
bors ;  they  have  done  as  men  will  do,  and  suffered  what  nicn 
can  bear.  We  may  therefore  begin  to  hope  that  the  Gods  will 
be  more  merciful  to  us  ;  for  we  now  invite  their  pity  rather 
than  their  jealousy.  And  look  at  your  own  well-armed  ranks  ; 
see  how  many  brave  soldiers  you  are,  marching  in  solid  arra}-, 
and  do  not  be  dismayed ;  bear  in  mind  that  wherever  you 
plant  yourselves  you  are  a  city  already,  and  that  no  city  of 
.Sicily  will  find  it  easy  to  resist  your  attack,  or  can  dislodge 
you  if  you  choose  to  settle.  Provide  for  the  safety  and  good 
order  of  your  own  march,  and  remember  every  one  of  you  that 
on  whatever  spot  a  man  is  compelled  to  fight,  there  if  he  con- 
quer lie  may  find  a  home  and  a  fortress.  We  must  press  for- 
ward day  and  night,  for  our  supplies  are  but  scanty.  The 
Sicels,  through  fear  of  the  Syracusans,  still  adhere  to  us,  and 
if  we  can  only  reach  anj-  part  of  their  territory  we  shall  be 
among  friends,  and  you  may  consider  yourselves  secure.  We 
have  sent  to  them,  and  they  have  been  told  to  meet  us  and 
bring  food.  In  a  word,  soldiers,  let  me  tell  you  that  you  must 
be  brave  ;  there  is  no  place  near  to  which  a  covrard  can  fly. 
And  if  you  now  escape  your  enemies,  those  of  3'ou  v/ho  are  not 
Athenians  mny  see  once  more  the  home  for  which  they  long, 
v.'hile  you  Athenians  will  again  rear  aloft  the  fallen  greatness 
of  Athens.  For  in?n,  and  not  walls  or  ships  in  which  are  no 
men,  constitute  a  state." 

Thus  exhorting  his  troops  Nicias  passed  through  the  army, 
and  wherever  he  saw  gaps  in  the  ranks  or  the  men  dropping 
out  of  line,  he  brought  them  back  to  their  proper  place. 
Demosthenes  did  the  same  for  the  troops  under  his  command, 
and  gave  them  simihir  exhortations.  The  army  marched  dis- 
posed in  a  hollow  oblong  :  the  division  of  Nicias  leading,  and 
that  of  Demosthenes  following;    the  hoplites  inclosed  within 


DESTRUCTION   OF   THE   ATHENIANS  AT  SYRACUSE.     705 

their  ranks  the  baggage  bearers  and  the  rest  of  the  army. 
When  they  arrived  at  the  ford  of  the  river  Anapus  they  found 
a  force  of  the  Syracusans  and  of  their  allies  drawn  up  to  meet 
them  ;  these  they  put  to  flight,  and  getting  command  of  the 
ford,  proceeded  on  their  march.  The  Syracusans  continually 
harassed  them,  the  cavalry  riding  alongside,  and  the  light- 
armed  troops  hurling  darts  at  them.  On  this  day  the  Athe- 
nians proceeded  about  four  and  a  half  miles  and  encamped  at 
a  hill.  On  the  next  day  they  started  early,  and,  having 
advanced  more  than  two  miles,  descended  into  a  level  plain, 
and  encamped.  The  country  was  inhabited,  and  they  were 
desirous  of  obtaining  food  from  the  houses,  and  also  water 
which  they  might  carry  with  them,  as  there  was  little  to  be 
had  for  many  miles  in  the  country  which  lay  before  them. 
Meanwhile  the  Syracusans  had  gone  on  before  them,  and  at  a 
point  where  the  road  ascends  a  steep  hill  called  the  Acrsean 
height,  and  there  is  a  precipitous  ravine  on  either  side,  were 
blocking  up  the  pass  by  a  wall.  On  the  next  day  the  Athe- 
nians advanced,  although  again  impeded  by  the  numbers  of  the 
enemy's  cavalry  who  rode  alongside,  and  of  their  javelin  men 
who  threw  darts  at  them.  For  a  long  time  the  Athenians 
maintained  the  struggle,  but  at  last  retired  to  their  own 
encampment.  Their  supplies  were  now  cut  off,  because  the 
horsemen  circumscribed  their  movements. 

In  the  morning  they  started  early  and  resumed  their  march. 
They  pressed  onwards  to  the  hill  where  the  way  was  barred, 
and  found  in  front  of  them  the  Syracusan  infantry  drawn  up 
to  defend  the  wall,  in  deep  array,  for  the  pass  was  narrow. 
Whereupon  the  Athenians  advanced  and  assaulted  the  barrier ; 
but  the  enemy,  who  were  numerous  and  had  the  advantage  of 
position,  threw  missiles  upon  them  from  the  hill,  which  was 
steep,  and  so,  not  being  able  to  force  their  way,  they  again 
retired  and  rested.  During  the  conflict,  as  is  often  the  case 
in  the  fall  of  the  year,  there  came  on  a  storm  of  rain  and  thun- 
der, whereby  the  Athenians  were  yet  more  disheartened,  for 
they  thought  that  everything  was  conspiring  to  their  destruc- 
tion. While  they  were  resting,  Gjdippus  and  the  Syracusans 
'dispatched  a  division  of  their  army  to  raise  a  wall  behind  them 
across  the  road  by  which  they  had  come  ;  but  the  Athenians 
sent  some  of  their  own  troops  and  frustrated  their  intention. 
They  then  retired  with  their  whole  army  in  the  direction  of 
th«  plain  and  passed  the  night.     On  the  following  day  they 

16 


700      DESTRUCTION  OF   THE  ATHENIANS  AT  SYRACUSE. 

again  advanced.  The  Syracusans  now  surrounded  and  attacked 
tliem  on  every  side,  and  wounded  many  of  them.  If  tlie  Athe- 
nians advanced  they  retreated,  but  charged  them  when  they 
retired,  falling  especially  upon  the  hindermost  of  them,  in  the 
hoTje  that,  if  they  could  put  to  flight  a  few  at  a  time,  they 
might  strike  a  panic  into  the  whole  army.  In  this  fashion  the 
Athenians  struggled  on  for  a  long  time,  and  having  advanced 
about  three  quarters  of  a  mile  rested  in  the  plain.  The  Syra- 
cusans then  left  them  and  returned  to  their  own  encampment. 

The  army  was  now  in  a  miserable  plight,  being  in  want  of 
every  necessary ;  and  by  the  continual  assaults  of  the  enemy 
great  numbers  of  the  soldiers  had  been  wounded.  Nicias  and 
Demosthenes,  perceiving  their  condition,  resolved  during  the 
night  to  light  as  many  watch  fires  as  possible  and  to  lead  off 
their  forces.  They  intended  to  take  another  route  and  march 
towards  the  sea  in  the  direction  opposite  to  that  from  which 
the  Syracusans  were  watching  them.  Now  their  whole  line  of 
march  lay,  not  towards  Catana,  but  towards  the  other  side  of 
Sicily,  in  the  direction  of  Camarina  and  Gela,  and  the  cities, 
Hellenic  or  Barbarian,  of  that  region.  So  they  lighted  numer- 
ous fires  and  departed  in  the  night.  And  then,  as  constantly 
happens  in  armies,  especially  in  very  great  ones,  and  as  might 
be  expected  when  they  were  marching  by  night  in  an  enemy's 
country,  and  with  tlie  enemy  from  whom  they  were  flying  not 
far  off,  there  arose  a  panic  among  them,  and  they  fell  into  con- 
fusion. The  army  of  Nicias,  which  led  tlie  way,  kept  together, 
and  was  considerably  in  advance,  but  that  of  Demosthenes, 
Avhich  was  the  larger  half,  got  severed  from  the  other  division, 
and  marched  in  less  order.  At  daybreak  they  succeeded  in 
reaching  the  sea,  and  striking  into  the  Helorine  road  marched 
along  it,  intending  as  soon  as  they  arrived  at  the  river  Cacy- 
paris  to  follow  up  the  stream  through  the  interior  of  the 
island.  They  were  expecting  that  the  Sicels  for  whom  they 
had  sent  would  meet  them  on  this  road.  When  they  had 
reached  the  river  they  found  there  also  a  guard  of  the  Syra- 
cusans cutting  off  the  passage  by  a  wall  and  palisade.  They 
forced  their  way  through,  and  crossing  the  river,  passed  on 
towards  another  river  which  is  called  the  Erineus,  this  being 
the  direction  in  which  their  guides  led  them. 

When  daylight  broke  and  the  Syracusans  and  their  allies 
saw  that  the  Athenians  had  departed,  most  of  them  thought 
that   Gylippus  had  let  them  go  on  purpose,  and  were  very 


DESTRUCTION  OF  THE   ATHENIANS   AT   SYRACUSE.     707 

angi'y  with  him.  They  easily  found  the  line  of  their  retreat, 
and  quickly  following,  came  up  with  them  about  the  time  of 
the  midday  meal.  The  troops  of  Demosthenes  were  last ;  they 
were  marching  slowly  and  in  disorder,  not  having  recovered 
from  the  panic  of  the  previous  night,  when  they  were  over- 
taken by  the  Syracusans,  who  immediately  fell  upon  them  and 
fought.  Separated  as  they  were  from  the  others,  they  were 
easily  hemmed  in  by  the  Syracusan  cavalry  and  driven  into  a 
narrow  space.  The  division  of  Nicias  was  as  jnuch  as  six 
miles  in  advance,  for  he  marched  faster,  thinking  that  their 
safety  depended  at  such  a  time,  not  in  remaining  and  fighting, 
if  they  could  avoid  it,  but  in  retreating  as  quickly  as  they 
could,  and  resisting  only  when  they  were  positively  compelled. 
Demosthenes,  on  the  other  hand,  who  had  been  more  inces- 
santly harassed  throughout  the  retreat,  because  marching  last 
he  was  first  attacked  by  the  enemy,  now,  when  he  saw  the 
Syracusans  pursuing  him,  instead  of  pressing  onward,  had 
ranged  his  army  in  order  of  battle.  Thus  lingering  he  was 
surrounded,  and  he  and  the  Athenians  under  his  command 
were  in  the  greatest  danger  and  confusion.  For  they  were 
crushed  into  a  walled  inclosure,  having  a  road  on  both  sides 
and  planted  thickly  with  olive  trees,  and  missiles  were  hurled 
at  them  from  all  points.  The  Syracusans  naturally  preferred 
this  mode  of  attack  to  a  regular  engagement.  For  to  risk 
themselves  against  desperate  men  would  have  been  only  play- 
ing into  the  hands  of  the  Athenians.  Moreover,  every  one 
was  sparing  of  his  life  ;  their  good  fortune  was  already  assured, 
and  they  did  not  want  to  fall  in  the  hour  of  victory.  Even 
by  this  irregular  mode  of  fighting  they  thought  that  they  could 
overpower  and  capture  the  Athenians. 

And  so  when  they  had  gone  on  all  day  assailing  them  with 
missiles  from  every  quarter,  and  saw  that  they  were  quite  worn 
out  with  their  wounds  and  all  their  other  sufferings,  Gylippus 
and  the  Syracusans  made  a  proclamation,  first  of  all  to  the 
islanders,  that  any  of  them  who  pleased  might  come  over  to 
them  and  have  their  freedom.  But  only  a  few  cities  accepted 
the  offer.  At  length  an  agreement  was  made  for  the  entire 
force  under  Demosthenes.  Their  arms  were  to  be  surrendered, 
but  no  one  was  to  suffer  death,  either  from  violence  or  from 
imprisonment,  or  from  want  of  the  bare  means  of  life.  So  they 
all  surrendered,  being  in  number  six  thousand,  and  gave  up 
what  money  they  had.     This  they  threw  into  the  hollows  of 


708     DESTRUCTION  OF  THE   ATHENIANS   AT  SYRACUSE. 

shields  and  filled  four.  The  captives  were  at  once  taken  to 
the  city.  On  the  same  day  Nicias  and  his  division  reached 
the  river  Erineus,  which  he  crossed,  and  halted  his  army  on  a 
rising  ground. 

On  the  following  day  he  was  overtaken  by  the  Syracusans, 
who  told  him  that  Demosthenes  had  surrendered,  and  bade  him 
do  the  same.  He,  not  believing  them,  procured  a  truce  while 
he  sent  a  horseman  to  go  and  see.  Upon  the  return  of  the 
horseman  bringing  assurance  of  the  fact,  he  sent  a  herald  to 
Gylippus  and  the  Syracusans,  saying  that  he  would  agree,  on 
behalf  of  the  Athenian  state,  to  pay  the  expenses  which  the 
Syracusans  had  incurred  in  the  war,  on  condition  that  they 
should  let  his  army  go ;  until  the  money  was  paid  he  would 
give  Athenian  citizens  as  hostages,  a  man  for  a  talent.  Gylip- 
pus and  the  Syracusans  would  not  accept  these  proposals,  but 
attacked  and  surrounded  this  division  of  the  army  as  well  as 
the  other,  and  hurled  missiles  at  them  from  every  side  until 
the  evening.  They,  too,  were  grievously  in  want  of  food  and 
necessaries.  Nevertheless  they  meant  to  wait  for  the  dead  of 
the  night  and  then  to  proceed.  They  were  just  resuming  their 
arms,  when  the  Syracusans  discovered  them  and  raised  the 
Peean.  The  Athenians,  perceiving  that  they  were  detected, 
laid  down  their  arms  again,  with  the  exception  of  about  three 
hundred  men  who  broke  through  the  enemy's  guard  and  made 
their  escape  in  the  darkness  as  best  they  could. 

When  the  day  dawned  Nicias  led  forward  his  army,  and  the 
Syracusans  and  the  allies  again  assailed  them  on  every  side, 
hurling  javelins  and  other  missiles  at  them.  The  Athenians 
hurried  on  to  the  river  Assinarus.  They  hoped  to  gain  a  little 
relief  if  they  forded  the  river,  for  the  mass  of  horsemen  and 
other  troops  overwhelmed  and  crushed  them  ;  and  they  were 
worn  out  by  fatigue  and  thirst.  But  no  sooner  did  they  reach 
the  water  than  they  lost  all  order  and  rushed  in  ;  every  man 
was  trying  to  cross  first,  and,  the  enemy  pressing  upon  them  at 
the  same  time,  the  passage  of  the  river  became  hopeless.  Being 
compelled  to  keep  close  together  they  fell  one  upon  anotlier, 
and  trami3led  each  other  under  foot  :  some  at  once  perished, 
pierced  by  their  own  spears  ;  others  got  entangled  in  the  bag- 
gage and  were  carried  down  the  stream.  The  Syracusans  stood 
upon  the  further  bank  of  the  river,  which  was  steep,  and  hurled 
missiles  from  above  on  the  Athenians,  who  were  huddled  together 
in  the  deep  bed  of  the  stream  and  for  the  most  part  were  drink- 


DESTRUCTION  OP  THE   ATHENIANS  AT  SYRACUSE.     709 

ing  greedily.  The  Peloponnesians  came  down  the  bank  and 
slaughtered  them,  falling  chiefly  upon  those  who  were  in  the 
river.  Whereupon  the  water  at  once  became  foul,  but  was 
drunk  all  the  same,  although  muddy  and  dyed  with  blood,  and 
the  crowd  fought  for  it. 

At  last,  when  the  dead  bodies  were  lying  in  heaps  one  upon 
another  in  the  water,  and  the  army  Avas  utterly  undone,  some 
perishing  in  the  river,  and  any  who  escaped  being  cut  off  by 
the  cavalry,  Nicias  surrendered  to  Gylippus,  in  whom  he  had 
more  confidence  than  in  the  Syracusans.  He  entreated  him 
and  the  Lacedsemonians  to  do  what  they  pleased  with  himself, 
but  not  to  go  on  killing  the  men.  So  Gylippus  gave  the  word 
to  make  prisoners.  Thereupon  the  survivors,  not  including, 
however,  a  large  number  whom  the  soldiers  concealed,  were 
brought  in  alive.  As  for  the  three  hundred  who  had  broken 
through  the  guard  in  the  night,  the  Syracusans  sent  in  pur- 
suit and  seized  them.  The  total  of  the  public  prisoners  when 
collected  was  not  great ;  for  many  were  appropriated  by  the 
soldiers,  and  the  whole  of  Sicily  was  full  of  them,  they  not 
having  capitulated  like  the  troops  under  Demosthenes.  A 
large  number  also  perished,  —  the  slaughter  at  the  river  being 
very  great,  quite  as  great  as  any  which  took  place  in  the 
Sicilian  war  ;  and  not  a  few  had  fallen  in  the  frequent  attacks 
which  were  made  upon  the  Athenians  during  their  march. 
Still,  many  escaped,  some  at  the  time,  others  ran  away  after  an 
interval  of  slavery,  and  all  these  found  refuge  at  Catana. 

The  Syracusans  and  their  allies  collected  their  forces  and  re- 
turned with  the  spoil,  and  as  many  prisoners  as  they  could  take 
with  them,  into  the  city.  The  captive  Athenians  and  allies 
they  deposited  in  the  quarries,  which  they  tliought  would  be 
the  safest  place  of  confinement.  Nicias  and  Demosthenes  they 
put  to  the  sword,  although  against  the  wall  of  Gylipf)us.  For 
Gylippus  thought  that  to  carry  home  with  him  to  Lacedsemon 
the  generals  of  the  enemy,  over  and  above  all  his  other  suc- 
cesses, would  be  a  brilliant  triumph.  One  of  them,  Demosthe- 
nes, happened  to  be  the  greatest  foe,  and  the  other  the  greatest 
friend,  of  the  Lacedaemonians,  both  in  the  same  matter  of  Pylos 
and  Sphacteria.  For  Nicias  had  taken  up  their  cause,  and  had 
persuaded  the  Athenians  to  make  the  peace  which  set  at  liberty 
the  prisoners  taken  in  the  island.  The  Lacedeemonians  were 
grateful  to  him  for  the  service,  and  this  was  the  main  reason 
why  he   trusted   Gylippus   and  surrendered  himself  to  him. 


TlO     DESTRUCTION  OF  THE  ATHENIANS  AT  SYRACUSE. 

But  certain  Syracusans,  who  had  been  in  communication  with 
him,  were  afraid  (sucli  was  the  report)  that  on  some  suspicion 
of  their  guilt  he  might  be  put  to  the  torture  and  bring  trouble 
on  theui  in  the  hour  of  their  prosperity.  Others,  and  especially 
the  Corinthians,  feared  that,  being  rich,  he  might  by  bribery 
escape  and  do  them  further  mischief.  So  the  Syracusans 
gained  the  consent  of  the  allies  and  had  him  executed.  For 
these  or  the  like  reasons  he  suffered  death.  No  one  of  the 
Hellenes  in  my  time  was  less  deserving  of  so  miserable  an  end  ; 
for  he  lived  in  the  practice  of  every  virtue. 

Those  who  were  imprisoned  in  the  quarries  were  at  the 
beginning  of  their  captivity  harshly  treated  by  the  Syracusans. 
There  were  great  numbers  of  them,  and  they  were  crowded  in  a 
deep  and  narrow  place.  At  first  the  sun  by  day  was  still  scorch- 
ing and  suffocating,  for  they  had  no  roof  over  their  heads,  while 
the  autumn  nights  were  cold,  and  the  extremes  of  tempera- 
ture engendered  violent  disorders.  Being  cramped  for  room 
they  had  to  do  everything  on  the  same  spot.  The  corpses  of 
those  who  died  from  their  wounds,  exposure  to  the  weather,  and 
the  like,  lay  heaped  one  upon  another.  The  smells  were  in- 
tolerable ;  and  they  were  at  the  same  time  afflicted  by  hunger 
and  thirst.  During  eight  months  they  were  allowed  only  about 
half  a  pint  of  water  and  a  pint  of  food  a  day.  Every  kind  of 
misery  which  could  befall  man  in  such  a  place  befell  them. 
This  was  the  condition  of  all  the  captives  for  about  ten  weeks. 
At  length  the  Syracusans  sold  them,  with  the  exception  of  the 
Athenians  and  of  any  Sicilians  or  Italian  Greeks  who  had  sided 
with  them  in  the  war.  The  whole  number  of  the  public  prison- 
ers is  not  accurately  known,  but  they  were  not  less  than  seven 
thousand. 

Of  all  the  Hellenic  actions  Avhich  took  place  in  this  war,  or 
indeed  of  all  the  Hellenic  actions  which  are  on  record,  this  was 
the  greatest — the  most  glorious  to  the  victors,  the  most  ruinous 
to  the  vancjuished  ;  for  they  were  utterly  and  at  all  points  de- 
feated, and  their  sufferings  were  prodigious.  Fleet  and  army 
perished  from  the  face  of  the  earth  ;  nothing  was  saved,  and  of 
the  many  who  went  forth  few  returned  home. 

Thus  ended  the  Sicilian  expedition. 


DATE  DUE 

' 

GAYLORD 

PRINTEDINU    S    A. 

UC  SOUTHERN 


:,j  HE OIOMAL  LIBRARY  r/;r;iLITY 


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